


Irreplaceable

by Wolfstang14



Series: Able series [3]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Densi - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfstang14/pseuds/Wolfstang14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of the "able" series, following "Inseparable". A dangerous criminal breaks out of prison, forcing Kensi and Deeks to see their partnership in a different light. Some things just aren't replaceable. Densi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking

Kensi Marie Blye had never felt this incompetent before. Her tomboyish upbringing with her Marine father had made sure of that. She could track a person or vehicle with ease, survive seemingly impossible conditions, and take on anyone, no matter how large or tough, in hand-to-hand combat. Her role as a NCIS special agent meant that she had encountered some of the most extreme and horrific events known to humans, and she had managed to take all of them in stride. Her reputation as a no-nonsense and tough-as-nails special agent who measured up to and beyond the male agents had been well-earned.

So how was it that a simple tube of rubber could leave her sweating, exhausted and in terrible pain?

“Come one then Kensi, five more pulls and you’re all done for the day. You’re doing great there, girl.” Kensi’s physical therapist, a no-nonsense woman by the name of Adara Tamar locked her hazel eyes onto Kensi’s mismatched ones and grinned, pushing a greying stand of black hair back behind her ear. Kensi gripped the one of the plastic handles of the exercise tubing with her left hand, the other handle grasped firmly in Adara’s strong hands. With a grunt, she pulled the handle to her chest, biting her tongue to hold back a shriek of pain as her knife-damaged muscles flared, fire racing up her sensitive nerves.

She gave the jagged scar running from her wrist to elbow a scathing glare- a result of a combat knife wielded by a crazed criminal. Eight months ago Kensi and her three teammates had been requested to transport a criminal-Nikolai- that had been in the L.A. team’s custody to Washington D.C. Nikolai’s brother, Nazar, had kidnapped triplets of two married D.C. agents and had demanded the release of his younger brother for their safe return. During the rescue, Nazar had been ready to stab one of the infants when Kensi, driven by some unknown yet powerful instinct, had rushed him to save the baby. Instinct, however, offered no protection against a physical weapon, and within the span of seconds she had been stabbed three times- twice in the shoulder and once down the length of her left arm. The babies had been saved, however, and Kensi knew deep within her that she would have done the same thing over again without hesitation if ever a child was involved.

“Kensi? Kensi? Where are you at girl?”

Kensi was jolted out of her revere by Adara’s hand gently shaking her shoulder. The physical therapist’s intense eyes bored into Kensi’s dual-colored ones, concern written all over the older woman’s face. She gave Kensi’s shoulder a rub.

“Are you okay Kensi?” When Kensi looked away, embarrassed to be caught drifting off, Adara rested her lined hand on the agent’s cheek. “You went back to that day, huh?” Adara’s voice had lost its usual rough edge and had taken on a softer, more motherly tone. Kensi managed a small smile and quickly grabbed the plastic handle once more. She really wasn’t in the mood for talking about it.

“I’m fine Adara. Really. Four more pulls, right?” Adara opened her mouth as if to say something, but let out an almost inaudible sigh before anchoring the handle on her end and motioning Kensi to continue. Her hazel eyes, however, continued to look troubled.

…..

Kensi carefully adjusted the shoulder strap of her gym bag and tried not to move her incredibly sore left arm too much. As she walked out of the physical therapy office, she was startled by the honking of a car horn, an abrupt sound that made her jump. Embarrassed and irritated, she looked up to see a large silver SRX rumbling up to her. The car slowed to a halt and the tinted window slid down smoothly to reveal the scraggly face of her NCIS partner and friend.

Marty Deeks could go to a surfing competition and he would fit right in. With his long, shaggy locks, scruffy stubble and sky-blue eyes, Deeks looked like he belonged on the cover of _Sports Illustrated_ with a surfboard. He certainly did not look like a LAPD detective-turned-NCIS-liaison, but that’s exactly what he was. Detective Marty Deeks had survived a rough childhood and an even rougher adulthood, but he was the best damn cop Kensi had ever known, and he was an even better partner.

Not that she’d ever tell _him_ that.

She gave the grinning detective a glare. “Why are you driving _my_ car Deeks?” she asked, keeping her voice at a low snarl. Infuriatingly, Deek’s grin only widened.

“Well princess, since I just _happen_ to have a spare set of keys and your arm is usually pretty sore after PT, I thought you might like to be treated to some valet service by your dashing partner…” his voice faded as Kensi yanked the driver’s side door open and pointed to the sidewalk.

“Out.”

“But…”

“ _OUT._ Or I’ll put my foot so far up your…”

“Aaaand I’m getting out now.” Deeks stepped out and was quickly pushed aside. A flash of movement in the back seat caught Kensi’s eye, and she whipped around in alarm, only to have her face thoroughly washed by the long, wet tongue of a _very_ familiar canine.

“Monty!” Kensi yelped as the scruffy mutt continued to lick every inch of her face. She pushed the over-friendly mutt away and grabbed the proffered tissue from Deeks, who had just climbed into the passenger seat. “You brought your mutt into _my_ car?!? His damn hair gets everywhere!” Kensi grunted.

“His _name_ Monty, as you just said not fifteen seconds ago, and I thought he might cheer you up. I mean, aren’t dogs supposed to be good for lowering your blood pressure? I mean, clearly you’ve been under stress… uh, not that it shows or anything, because you’re just as amazing as ever… well, as amazing as to other guys who aren’t your partner and can’t…”

“Deeks.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut. UP.”

“What? I was just pointing out the science- OW! Crazy ninja assassin- OW!” Deeks winced and rubbed his shoulder where Kensi had punched it twice. “Shutting up now.”

Kensi allowed herself a small smirk before peeling away from the PT center, tires squealing.

…..

It was a little after 2 o’ clock when Kensi and Deeks walked through the large double doors of the Mission and the massive form of the former Navy SEAL Sam Hana lumbered by. He gave Kensi his characteristic half-smile when he saw her, but when he caught sight of Monty trotting happily by Deek’s side, the grin faded.

“What’s that _mutt_ doin’ here?” he growled. Despite all the Monty had done in the past for the team, Sam had never truly warmed to the dog. Deek’s only response was to roll his eyes at the big man.

“This _mutt,_ as you so tastefully call him, has saved your life more than once. Show some respect will you? He _is_ a hero after all.” Sam snorted at this, but Deeks merely lifted his chin. “Scoff all you like, _mi compadre,_ but Monty has show dog quality, and you know it.” He then passed the burly man, head in the air, a look that made Kensi and Sam chuckle.

 “Show dog my ass.” Sam chortled. He watched Deeks until he disappeared, and then turned to Kensi, his face unusually gentle. “How’s the arm Kens?” Kensi flexed her arm, trying to keep her face emotionless as possible despite the agonizing jolt of pain that raced up the injured limb.

“It’s… sore,” she managed, “but it’s a hell of a lot better. It’ll be back in no time.” Kensi smiled up at Sam, praying that her face didn’t betray her pain. From the look he gave back to her, she was unsuccessful, and inwardly she winced. Sam said nothing, however, merely clapping Kensi on the shoulder with a beefy hand.

Eric’s shrill whistle cut sharply through the air, causing both Kensi and Sam to whip their heads around. The blonde-haired tech adjusted his glasses and made a sweeping gesture towards the Ops Center.

“Duty calls!” Eric bellowed in a grand manner. Kensi and Sam both rolled their eyes before joining up with a still-surely-looking Deeks and jogging up the stairs. As they went up the stairs, Kensi noticed that someone was missing and turned to Sam.

“Where’s G?”

Somehow Sam managed a shrug while still climbing. “Dunno. Haven’t seen him since this morning after you left.”

Kensi soon found her answer as they entered the Ops Center. G Callen’s blue eyes were fixed on the large screen in front of him and his mouth was set in a thin, hard line. Kensi turned to see what he was looking at, and the image on the huge screen made her stop dead.

The image on the screen was a freeze-frame from a prison security camera, showing a man frozen in prison jumpsuit frozen in the act of slitting a guard’s throat. It wasn’t, however the act, but the man’s face that made Kensi’s blood run cold.

“Nikolai” she breathed. The Russian mercenary, the brother of the man who stabbed her was in the act of escaping from prison. The rat-like man’s face was turned full-on to the camera and, as if completely unconcerned with the violent act he was committing, he was sneering. The video began to play (Kensi supposed Eric or Nell had started it), and the guard collapsed as Nikolai raised the bloody knife to the camera, and moved his lips slowly and deliberately, making Kensi shiver. A warm weight pressed against her back and she turned abruptly to see Deeks. He wrapped an arm around her, lending silent strength. His face, however, was stormy with rage.

“What did he say?” he growled, his blue eyes hard.

Kensi drew a shuddering breath, quelling the uneasy feeling in her gut. “He said ‘the next sheath for this knife will be your heart. I’m coming for you Kensi Blye.’”


	2. Anger

Marty had only met Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs once before, but even with that single meeting the detective knew that this particular agent was no man to be crossed. It was Agent Gibbs who had fired the sniper shot that killed Nikolai’s brother Nazar and prevented the mercenary from doing the same to Kensi the baby she had rescued.

Even now, when Marty was over 2,600 miles away from Washington D.C, and even when he was only viewing Agent Gibbs through a screen, he couldn’t help but to feel slightly terrified of the older agent, especially when Agent Gibbs heard the news of Nikolai’s escape.

Callen, being the team leader and having known Agent Gibbs the longest, was filling him in on the team’s plans. As Callen went on about BOLOs and no-fly lists, Marty found himself feeling extremely happy that _he_ wasn’t the one relaying the information to Agent Gibbs.

As his thoughts wandered, Marty happened to catch a glance at Kensi, and was not at all surprised to see that her eyes were unfocused even though she was staring straight at the screen. It was as if she was seeing something far beyond the walls of the Mission. She was rubbing her left arm as well, and it was clear to Marty that her mind had returned to the attack of eight months ago. On a whim, he gently brushed her arm, pulling back slightly when she jumped at the touch. He quirked an eyebrow at her when she looked at him, but she merely shook her head. Marty didn’t have much time to think about it, however, as Callen was barking out his name.

“I’m sorry, what?” Marty asked, casting his eyes back on the screen. In his peripheral vision, he saw Kensi do the same. Gibb’s sharp blue eyes were fixed on Marty’s, and the detective shivered.

“I _said_ what the hell is LAPD doing about this damn breakout _Detective_ Deeks!? You’re the _liaison_ officer, do your goddamn job!” Gibbs yelled. Anger bubbled in Marty’s chest, and he forced himself to count ten, but even that could not quell the rage building in his gut, and like a pot boiling over, her just couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“I _am_ doing my job _Special Agent_ Gibbs. I spoke with my LAPD correspondents the second I received the intel. I made sure that they gave us their full cooperation in helping us find this bastard. Believe me, I would never let my people, especially my _partner_ down!” Marty was too upset to notice that he was practically roaring with rage. Suddenly, a hand was his shoulder, fingers digging deep in a not-too-subtle warning that he had gone way too far.

“Talk a walk.” Sam’s growled in his ear. When Marty tried to pull free, Sam’s fingers moved to a pressure point, nearly causing the detective’s knees to buckle. “I said, _take. a. walk._ Deeks. Kens, go with him, keep him outta trouble.” The former SEAL gave Marty a rough shove towards the door. Kensi took up the movement, pushing her reluctant partner out of the Ops center while Callen took up the narrative with a clearly pissed-off Gibbs. Once they were down the stairs and on the main floor, Marty rounded on Kensi, his temper flaring once more.

“What the _hell_ Kensi!?!?” he yelled, not caring who stared. “ You can’t push me…” Kensi cut him off with a low growl.

“Outta line Deeks.” She snapped. “You are way out of line.”

Marty snapped.

“Out of line!? **_Out of line!?!?!?_** he roared, his voice echoing in the wide space. “We’ve got a deadly criminal on the loose and that bastard upstairs has the gall to ask me if I’m doing my goddamn job!”

“He’s worried about his team Deeks!” Kensi shouted back. “In case you’ve forgotten, Nikolai’s brother kidnapped and almost _killed_ a child, a child that belonged to two of his agents!”

“He accused me of not doing my job, dammit! He practically said that I don’t care about protecting my _partner!_ ”

“Your job is to investigate murders, not protect me Deeks! I don’t need protection, I’m federal agent, not some frightened witness! I can take care of myself!”

“You’re _disabled_ Kensi!”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Marty desperately wished that he could take them back. Kensi looked as if she had been struck, and the silence surrounding them made it feel as if the whole room were holding its breath.

“Kensi, I-“

**_WHAM!_ **

Marty gasped, doubling over and clutching his abdomen where Kensi had struck with her injured arm. Kensi was breathing hard, her mis-matched eyes gleaming angrily.

“How’s _that_ for disabled?” she spat, before turning on her heel and rushing out of the room.

……

He drove, one hand on the wheel, the other holding an ice pack to his throbbing gut. He had no particular destination in mind other than any one that would take him far away from the Mission as possible. He couldn’t go back now, not after what he had said.

 _How_ could he have said that? How could he have even _thought_ that word? Kensi had spent her entire life having to be tough and self-reliant, and she prided herself on being one of the best agents that NCIS had to offer. To top all of this, Kensi had been going through months of therapy to fix her damaged arm. Yet, he had the gall to tell her she was _disabled_!

Marty ended up at a local beach, one he had surfed at many times before. He wished that he had his board now- surfing had always provided an escape from stress as well as a means to think things through. He settled instead on pacing the shoreline, his thoughts filled with self-loathing disgust.

So lost was he that it took him nearly five minutes to realize that there was someone watching him. His head snapped around and found Hetty standing no more than ten yards away from him, looking as out of place with her tailored pantsuit as, well, as a surfer in a business convention. Marty almost smiled at the simile. Almost.

Instead, he remained standing where he was, trying to decide whether to go and meet Hetty or to run away- slim as his chances of real escape were. Hetty solved this dilemma by crooking her index finger and giving him a look that clearly allowed no other option than for him to follow her. Head down, like a student following the principal into the office, he followed her to a shady bench overlooking the water.

“You left early Mr. Deeks” Hetty said calmly, as if simply commenting on the weather. Marty didn’t see any way to reply. Hetty continued.

“I’m not going to lecture you on what happened, because I know that I don’t need to. However, I _will_ tell you and Ms. Blye need to talk. You two are partners and partners cannot be on edge with one another. I have seen far too many partnerships fall apart because of this kind of tension.” Marty turned away, not willing to listen to another talk about how communication was the most important-

“Marty.” He spun around, shocked. Hetty had _never_ called him by his first name. “Kensi needs you right now, more than she will ever be willing to admit. The damage that bastard Nazar di was so much more than just physical- her emotional and mental capacities were damaged as well, no matter how much she denies it. No one goes through what she went through and comes out unscathed.”

“She’s told you all of this?” Marty wanted to know.

“No, I have been through it myself.”

“Right, Romania.”

“Among other incidents.”

They sat quietly for a moment, the silence weighted with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Hetty stood.

“Officially, I should have taken Ms. Blye and you off this case the moment we received word of it. Don’t make me decide I need to follow that rule now, Mr. Deeks. Now I expect you back at Ops in ten minutes.” Hetty stood and made as if to move away, but then stopped and looked back at Marty.

“Your partner needs you Mr. Deeks. Go back to her.” 


	3. Ripped

On the dock of a large boathouse, a loan figure sat, one bare foot trailing in the calm waters of the surrounding marina. Kensi had found the quiet stretch of dock a welcome and peaceful refuge from the usual pandemonium that accompanied the life of a federal agent. It was hidden from the road so that the majority of the L.A. population passed it by without even seeing it, but it only took seconds to get back into the NCIS boathouse if needed.

After she had struck Deeks, Kensi knew she had to get away from the Mission. She still could see the startled faces of Callen, Sam, Eric, Nell and even Hetty in her mind’s eye as she had stormed off, and she knew that staying would only mean she would have to deal with their reactions.

A residual spark of pain traveled up Kensi’s left arm and she clenched her fist, forcing down the cry of pain that threatened to bubble up at any second. The scar cut across her vision like an angry red river, and her fist clenched tighter, the surrounding flesh turning white.

“Hurts, does it not?”

Kensi jumped, nearly pitching into the water. The voice was cold, calculating and darkly familiar, and it sent a chill to her very core. Very slowly, Kensi turned, coming face-to-face with none other than Nikolai Arieh, the very man out to kill her. _How did he…?_ She wasn’t even able to complete that thought before his hands were around her throat and she was violently thrown to the ground. Her head hit the dock with enough force to completely disorient her. She saw double, and was unable to even raise an arm before Nikolai was on her, his knee digging into her chest. He leaned in close, his body odor heavy and rank on her face- it smelled as if someone had soaked dog shit in stale beer and left it out for a week. She would have gagged if she could breathe. Nikolai took that moment to lean closer, his foul breath washing over her and making the smell even worse.

“I wait long time for this, Kensi Blye.” Nikolai hissed through his thick Russian accent. “You will pay for Nazar’s death. I make you beg to die. And no one will hear you scream.” With that, he stuck a needle into her neck. Before she could draw one more breath, Kensi was dragged under to darkness.

……

The darkness was reluctant to release Kensi, clinging to her with black tendrils. She struggled free, opening her eyes slowly. At first, everything was foggy and unclear, and it took several tries to clear her vision completely. The first thing that she noticed was she was handcuffed to a chair that appeared to be bolted to the ground of an abandoned warehouse. Her world was still spinning, and her head pounded in time with her heaving stomach. A door slammed open, making her jump and wince at the pain it sent through her head.

“You woke.” Nikolai’s voice sent a chill down Kensi’s spine and she stiffened, trying to pull away from the odious man. He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, exposing her throat to the cold steel of a knife blade that he had produced from somewhere. He ran the blade gently down the skin of her throat, drawing a thin line of blood. Kensi hissed, desperately trying to get away from Nikolia’s knife. The man pulled her closer. “Now, time for fun.”

He then stabbed the knife into Kensi’s left arm, dragging it to follow the scar already formed there. Kensi through her head back and screamed while Nikolai laughed. Hot blood streamed down her arm as the knife completed its path and lifted, bringing a brief respite from the pain. Nikolai brought his face closer to Kensi’s, a smile cutting across his ragged features. “You will pay for Nazar, woman. You and that bitch daughter of Eli. You will be first, and then I tear her apart, starting with her family. But first you. You will beg for death.”

“Do you only know those phrases Niki, or are you just infatuated with the whole idea of making me beg?” Kensi spat through gritted teeth, determined not to let the pain get to her. His response was to slap her across the face.

“Don’t call me Niki!” he roared, spittle flying everywhere. He raised the knife and slashed at her shoulder, opening the muscle beneath. Kensi suppressed a groan, biting her tongue. She refused to appear weak in front of her tormentor and grinned instead, ignoring the pain it caused.

“That all you got you bastard? I’ve taken worse hits in the gym.”

Nikolai’s arm twitched, looking as if he might strike once more, but he took a breath and merely tapped the knife against the chair and smiled a shark’s smile. The hairs on the back of Kensi’s neck stood straight up. This cooler, calmer version of Nikolai was infinitely more frightening than his enraged side-this side was crafty, more conniving and much more difficult to stop.

“Oh, I have more. But now you should rest. You be ready for more fun later.” He moved out of Kensi’s line of sight. She felt a needle prick her neck, and she blacked out once more.

…..

Kensi slowly woke, this time on a filthy mattress instead of tied to a chair. The room was dimly lit from a window too high to reach and too small to squeeze through. The room was small, no larger than a walk-in closet, made up entirely of concrete and cinderblock. The door was made of steel, and only a small hole, too small to even fit her pinkie in, was all that she could see of the lock.

No way out.

Kensi would have struck the wall in frustration, but as she sat up, her head spun and the lacerations on her body throbbed as one. She wanted nothing more than to drift back into the bliss of unconsciousness, but she knew she might not wake again if she did. Idly, she wondered why she wasn’t still bleeding, and lifted her scarred arm to her face, fighting back the wave of nausea that accompanied the movement. Crude stitches crossed the angry red line on her forearm, and when she felt her shoulder, coarse stitching met her searching fingers. A sigh escaped, and the sigh turned into a sob. Tears ran down Kensi’s face as she struggled to hold back the howl that threatened to escape from her lips. She was trapped, in pain, and this madman was simply keeping her alive only so he could continue to torture her further.

Another sob broke from her throat, and dizziness threatened to overwhelm Kensi. She flopped back onto the mattress and might have fainted had not the door slammed open, startling her. The shadow of a man’s body caused Kensi to shrink back like a trapped animal. Her heart hammered, sweat dripped down her forehead and her breath came in short gasps. Fear filled her, keeping her sharp, but the shadow did nothing more than stand for a few brief moments before throwing something into the room and slamming the door shut once more. Kensi pulled back as far as she possibly could, holding her breath, waiting for harm.

Nothing happened. The object remained static and Kensi cautiously crept forward, ready to bolt at any movement. Stretching out her index finger, she tentatively touched the unknown thing and encountered what felt like simple plastic. She ran more of her hand over the plastic and realized a bowl had been placed in her cell. Further searching found a spoon, and, after a few seconds of fumbling, she pulled out a spoonful of some liquid-like food to her mouth. She nearly spat it all out the minute it touched her tongue; it was bland, tasteless, bitter and tasted like wet sawdust. However, it was food, and she needed some sort of sustenance to survive if she wanted to ever escape this terror. Bite by bite she forced the food down her protesting mouth, finishing as fast as she could without gagging.

The food stuck to her throat, and Kensi could not find any water to drink. Coughing, she struggled to swallow the remnants down before she could spit them back up. Eventually she succeeded, and, head spinning, she turned her attention to the utensils that had been given to her. She tested both the spoon and the bowl, trying to see if either could be utilized as a weapon. As she bent and tried them, the spoon, and then the bowl, snapped in her hands, proving to be useless. Kensi swore, but bolstered by her short spurt of strength, she slowly crawled around the small room, trying to find something, _anything_ that could be used to help her escape from Nikolai’s hated grasp. Her stumbling steps and groping fingers found nothing, and soon she was slumped once more on the dingy mattress, the earlier burst of adrenaline- fueled energy completely spent, and the blood loss became too much to bear.

Kensi’s breath came faster and faster, hissing as the pain and helplessness became overwhelming. She curled into a fetal position, gasped, and then a scream, carrying every emotion that she was feeling inside ripped out and filling the air with her agony. She hurled the plastic pieces against the door. Her scream was cut short by a sound outside, and she weakly drew back, trying to prepare herself.

Before she could process it, the door burst open and Nikolai stepped into the room, a cold sneer on his face.

“Game time” he growled, and then pointed a gun directly at Kensi’s head. 


	4. Destruction

After the conversation with Hetty on the beach, Marty drove back to the Ops Center as fast as he dared, playing out different apologies in his head.

 _“I was so stupid, Kens…”_ She already knew that. He wouldn’t do anyone any good by saying that.

 _“Look Kensi, I really care about you…”_ Now _there_ was a sure way to get hit again. Not to mention lose a job.

A horn blared, and Marty was jerked violently back to the present as he realized he had nearly hit another car. He sucked in a breath and managed an apologetic wave at the furiously gesturing driver before pulling into a relatively quiet parking lot and turning off the car. He ran his hands through his shaggy hair, fighting the urge to just give up and drive back to the beach for good. Why should Kensi have to put up with him when there were dozens of excellent partners who knew how to actually respect her? There were dozens of agents who knew not to get too close, like he had.

No. He owed Kensi at least an apology and an explanation. Let _her_ decide if she wanted him back.

As a _partner_. Only a partner. Nothing more.

Marty ground his teeth at the thought as he started the engine once more and drove off.

…..

When he arrived at the Mission, Marty could have cut the tension with his knife. Even people he didn’t know gave him wide-eyed stares and scurried in a wide circle around him as if they expected him to turn into a monster at any second. Great. Now his stupidity would be the center of gossip for weeks, months maybe. Marty hefted his bag higher and determinedly ignored the dozens of eyes following him as he stalked his way into the bullpen.

“Kensi, I-“ He clapped his mouth shut, realizing she wasn’t there. Her chair was empty, her workplace untouched. Only Sam and Callen were present, both writing, both faces arranged in a strangely neutral expression. A lump the size of a golfball started forming in his throat.  

“Is… is Kensi in the gym?” he asked the two men quietly, trying desperately to act like it was just a normal day, a normal question. The two agents looked up as if they had just noticed his presence, but a stormy look that passed through both of their faces before the same curiously neutral expression returned. Looking at their angry eyes, Marty wondered if he should stay, or if he should try running for his life. Before he could consider either option, however, both Sam and Callen blocked the entrance to the bullpen.

“Haven’t seen her since you two fought.” Sam growled. Callen just shook his head when Marty turned to look at him.

“She left just after you took off, Deeks. Said she needed to go somewhere to think.” G’s eyes bored straight into Marty as if the senior agent could see right through the detective’s soul.

 _The boathouse._ Kensi’s favorite “hidey hole”. He had found her there a few years ago after a particularly 'rough case that had hit too close to home for his partner. The memory came unbidden- Kensi, swirling one foot in turquoise waters, her hair up in the tight, practical ponytail she used for tactical missions. She could have been a heartbroken teenager morning the loss of a boyfriend had it not been for the Kevlar vest blazoned with the “NCIS” logo and a splash of the killer’s blood splattered across her left shoulder.

At least she had kept her sniper rifle in her car.

Marty’s wandering mind was sharply brought back to the present when a heavy hand descended onto his shoulder, startling him. He looked up into Sam’s dark, stormy eyes and saw a barely suppressed anger simmering there- anger that sent shivers down Marty’s spine. He backed up as far as Sam’s clenching hand would allow.

“Find. Her. Find her and fix this damn mess you got your ass into, or I’ll break every damned bone in your body and sink it in the Mariana Trench.” Marty winced even more as Sam’s fingers dug in deep and managed a nod in reply. The burly former SEAL shoved him to the entrance of the bullpen. Callen got up to stand by his partner and the two men crossed their arms over their chests, glaring at Marty as he slunk once more out of the Mission.

.....

When he pulled up to the boatshed, Marty couldn’t have been more relived than he was the moment he spotted Kensi’s silver SRX parked in front of the boathouse. He pulled up next to the Cadillac, got out, and acting on instinct, placed his palm on the hood while checking the car’s interior. He couldn’t see anyone inside, and the hood had only the faintest trace of heat- Kensi had been at the boathouse for a while- at least an hour and a half if she had left right after their argument. As Marty turned away, he noticed a pair of skid marks next to the SRX as if someone had pulled away in a hurry. For some reason, this made the hairs on the back of Marty’s neck stand up, and without fully knowing why, he drew his gun partially from its holster and cautiously stepped forward, following the wall of the boathouse to the rear of the building.

By the time he had approached the corner when the side met the back, Marty had his Smith & Wesson 5944 pulled fully from its holster and had moved into a defensive crouch. Something was off- he knew it. Slowing his steps, Marty took as much of a calming breath as he could, and then he swung around the corner, his gun pointed.

Nothing.

Marty didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until it came out in a heavy _whoosh_. Creeping forward, heel-first as he had been trained to do, Marty eased his way to the opposite wall of the building, making sure to stay below the windows in case a hostile was inside the boathouse. Halfway to the opposite wall, something glinted in the corner of Marty’s vision. He turned and saw something gold and black half-hidden in a notch between the dock and the wall. Hoping, _praying_ it wasn’t what he thought it was, Marty used the toe of his boot to ease the object out, and his heart sank. It was a NCIS badge- _Kensi’s_ badge, and lying next to it was a broken-off hypodermic needle.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, Marty whirled like a trapped animal, kicking open the back door of the boathouse and rushing in. He didn’t care that the boathouse could easily hide numerous assailants. All that mattered was finding Kensi, finding her so that his greatest fear couldn’t come through. He searched the boathouse top to bottom, checking every possible nook and cranny, his rage and despair growing with each empty area. Just as he was about to go back outside to re-trace every inch of the boathouse, Marty caught sight of a folded piece of paper caught in the wreckage of the back door, likely slipped there before he had crashed through- he just hadn’t noticed it in his rush to find Kensi.

With shaking fingers, Marty prized the paper loose and unfolded it. The paper itself was unremarkable, a sheet of printer paper that could be found just about anywhere, from offices to local stores. Taped to the paper was a Polaroid photo. Marty’s blood froze when he saw what was captured in the photograph. Kensi, clearly unconscious, was lying on the dock boards, blood running from a cut on her forehead. The three words below the photograph, however, made Marty fall to his knees.

“She’s mine now.”

It was signed with a single letter- “N”.

Marty had his smart phone out and was speed-dialing Callen’s number before he had even taken a breath. Callen answered on the second ring.

“Deeks, did you-“

“Nikolai’s got her G. That bastard’s _got Kensi!_ ”

…..

Exactly ten minutes later, Sam’s Dodge Challenger roared into the boathouse parking lot, tires squealing. Before the car had even come to a complete stop, Callen had opened the passenger’s side door and leapt out, landing smoothly and marching swiftly towards where Marty was sitting. Once the engine had been turned off, Sam was out of the car, following only a few steps behind his partner. Both men strode purposefully to where Marty sat- immobile and silent. The detective hadn’t moved from the front door step for the ten minutes it took between his call and their arrival. He knew that he couldn’t go back inside- he would have lost any shred of control he had left and likely would have destroyed the only evidence the team had.

Callen was the first to reach Marty.

“Show us” he ordered.

The detective rose automatically, leading the two men to where he had dropped the paper and the photo, as well as Kensi’s badge and the broken hypodermic needle, which he had carefully placed on the table with the other evidence before getting out of the boathouse.

Sam and Callen donned crime scene gloves and made quick work of the evidence. Neither spoke much, other than to ask Marty questions about what, when, where and how he found everything. At first, he was happy to not have to explain, just to give facts, but then it started to dawn on him what had really happened.

This wasn’t just any crime scene- it was _Kensi’s_ crime scene for God’s sake! His partner, Sam and Callen’s team member, on NCIS territory no less! It was just too much; Marty rushed out of the boathouse back to the dock where he had found Kensi’s badge and the broken needle.

As he faced the waves that normally brought him calm, a tear slipped down Marty’s cheek. How could he have let this happen to her? Nikolai was out there right now with Kensi, doing God-knows-what with her. Gruesome images of gang rape and torture filled Marty’s unwilling mind, accompanied by the countless mangled and bloody corpses he had seen, with Kensi’s face superimposed on each body. It was such an overwhelming mental onslaught that the detective dropped to his hands and knees and an agonized howl was forced from the depths of his being.

Marty slammed his fists into the dock. The stinging pain of his flesh striking hard wood only served to add to his fury. Over and over he drove his fist into the boards of the dock, ignoring the gashes that ripped open with each blow and the blood that streamed to stain the wood below.

He raised his bloody fists yet again, but this time a pair of hands closed like iron cuffs around his wrists and held him back. Marty screamed in fury, curses spewing out of his mouth like a bursting dam. Sam’s voice yelled incomprehensible words in his ear, but all Marty could think about were the six words he started to scream over and over.

“Let me go! I failed her! Let me go-“

“I’m sorry Deeks.” Sam’s voice had taken a break from its usual loud and boisterous tone and had switched to a startlingly soft and gentle tone. Before Marty could process anything more, however, there was a sharp blow to the side of his head and his vision went completely dark.

His last conscious thought was _Kensi_! 


	5. Burning

_Before she could process it, the door burst open and Nikolai stepped into the room, a cold sneer on his face._

_"Game time" he growled, and then pointed a gun directly at Kensi's head._

Kensi raised her hands in a futile attempt to protect herself from the looming weapon. Part of her brain screamed at her to run, to fight, do _anything_ to protect her from the impending bullet, but her pain-weakened body would not, _could_ not respond. Her breath came fast and shallow, and she closed her eyes and waited for her imminent death.

It never came.

Instead, Nikolai let out a growling laugh. “Ah ha ha! You are much fun to play with” he roared. His sickening stench rolled over Kensi in waves as he leaned forward and grabbed her hair. He smiled a gruesome smile, his yellowed and stained teeth mere inches from her face. Kensi stared back challengingly, her old fighting spirit rising. Hell would freeze over before she let this son of a bitch break her.

With that in mind, she whipped her head forward as quickly as she could, slamming her forehead into the bridge of Nikolai’s nose. Blood spurted out almost immediately, and her captor reared back with a roar. Nikolai began screaming what sounded like foreign obscenities before he whipped the butt of his handgun around to strike the side of Kensi’s jaw. She grunted at the fresh wave of pain that accompanied the gash on her cheek and three molars that she spat out. Before she had time to recover, Nikolai pushed Kensi back and kicked her in the chest, sending her crashing to the floor. A second kick to the solar plexus drove all of the air out of her lungs in a heavy whoosh. The third kick cracked several ribs and she faded out, her mind going to a happier time to escape the pain.

_She’s lying on yet another Los Angeles beach, wearing nothing more than a sun hat, designer sunglasses and a skimpy two-piece bikini. The team is performing an undercover operation to meet an incredibly paranoid and elusive confidential informant of Deeks’ who had hinted that he could provide crucial information for their current case involving stolen military weapons. Deeks is sitting next to her, waxing his board, his normally shaggy blonde hair plastered flat on his head after a run through the waves. Occasionally, he stops to gaze at the sea, a contented look on his face._

_“What_ are _you grinning at?” Kensi ask, cocking her eyebrow. “If it’s that top-heavy beach bunny again, I’m going to slap you.” Deeks only widens his grin._

 _“For your information, I am_ not _checking that nice girl out, even if it’s really none of your business. I’m actually just watching the ocean. It calms me.” Those last words are so honest, so open, that Kensi is actually rendered speechless. Deeks appears to see this look, but he simply continues, regardless._

 _“Whenever I have a problem, or something goes wrong, or, hell, when I just need someplace to think, I go out to surf. There’s something about the motion, the challenge of the waves, that just makes things well,_ better _I guess.” He turns to her then, his blue eyes surprisingly gentle…_

An icy blast of cold water snapped Kensi out of her pleasant memory like a brutal slap to the face. She gasped, only to have pain streak up her side and across her cheek. Her ribs were definitely broken, and she could barely move her mouth for the pain caused by her lacerated cheek. As she came further around, Kensi felt a shooting pain travel up and down her arms. She looked up to find them stretched brutally above her head to bear the full weight of her abused body.

To take her mind off of the lancing agony, Kensi looked out to the shadows surrounding her and caught sight of Nikolai’s familiar outline faintly illuminated by the feeble light seeping through a dirty window high above his head. Nikolai didn’t move, didn’t speak, but his inactivity made Kensi shrink back as much as her aching arms would allow her to. Something was up, and all she knew was that it would be bad.

_Very bad._

Her rambling thoughts were abruptly broken by the popping hiss of a match being lit. The sound was as powerful in the close confines of the tiny room as a 50-calibar gunshot, and the bright flare of the light drew Kensi’s eyes. The dancing flame was small, but it still managed to cut gruesome-looking shadows across Nikolai’s cold face before he touched it to something. The unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filled the air as the tip of the rolled paper caught. Nikolai smiled cruelly as he blew a blast of smoke towards Kensi, making adrenaline surge through her body. Suddenly she realized what was going to happen and all attempts at putting on a brave face are abandoned.

“Oh, god, no, please, don’t! Don’t do it!”

She continued this litany over and over as Nikolai stepped forward and his rough hands tore away her shirt and bra, leaving her breasts bare and exposed to the cold, dank air. Nikolai raised the cigarette…

Kensi’s begging turned abruptly to animalistic screams as Nikolai pressed the scorching butt into her flesh. The smell of burning skin filled the air as Kensi shrieked over and over, the sound accompanied by the maniacal laughter of her captor.

It didn’t take long for Kensi to fall into a pained stupor and lose count of the number of times the cigarette burned her flesh. Over and over the burning tip seared her skin, over and over she howled until finally, _finally_ it became too much and she gratefully passed into quiet blissful oblivion.    

…..

The pain was so intense when Kensi awoke that she began screaming the split second she fully came around. She writhed shamelessly, her hands desperately clawing at thin air, seeking an escape from the agony that wracked her entire body. She only just registered that she was back in the cell-like room, lying on the same filthy mattress, her torso still stripped of her clothing, yet covered up in a rough blanket. Every part of her battered body felt as if it were on fire, sending waves of pain to her exhausted brain with each rapid heartbeat. Once more her hand whipped through the empty air.

This time, however, another hand grasped Kensi’s with iron strength. She let out a bark of pain and fear, thinking that Nikolai was back for more torture, but when she turned her head, she met the eyes of a woman at least twice her age. The woman’s reddish-brown hair was streaked with silver, and her deep-set hazel eyes looked tired, deeply frightened, and yet there was a deep sense of empathy radiating from them for the younger woman laying weakly in front of her.

Gently, the older woman put Kensi’s arm down and reached into a bucket and pulled out a dripping towel, gently laying it her badly burned breasts. From the pulling on her jaw and her chest, she realized that someone, likely the woman, had sewn the laceration shut and bound her broken ribs. Kensi closed her eyes when she realized she was being fixed up once more so she could be tortured further.

“Please…” the pain from her bashed ribs was almost too much, but she pushed on. “Please… just let me… let me be.” She couldn’t, wouldn’t survive another round of torture, at least not without breaking down and begging for death. If she was left alone with her wounds, maybe, just maybe, she would fall into the bliss of unconsciousness and never wake again.

“Let me die, _please_.” she whispered again. She tried to lock eyes with the woman, but this time she looked away, although there was obvious self-loathing in every movement of her body.

“I… I cannot.” The woman’s voice was soft, with an East European accent and yet it contained a heavy note of bitterness that bespoke of deep grief and hatred for what she was doing. “He has my daughter. If I do not as he says, she will be…” Nikolai’s voice barked a command from outside the door, and the woman jumped. She quickly responded in Russian, and then continued on Kensi’s wounds as his ominous footsteps faded into silence.

Tears leaked from Kensi’s eyes as she realized the futility of her situation. Suddenly a pair of warm hands folded over Kensi’s weak ones. The older woman’s hazel eyes locked into Kensi’s and a sudden and surprising intensity flared up.

“Do not give up. Never give up. He wants you to. If you give up, he wins. I gave you what I can to manage the pain, but you have to be strong.” The woman lifted Kensi’s head gently and placed a pillow-like object under her head.

“Please…” Kensi murmured, “Who are you?”

The woman looked at the door when Nikolai’s voice barked once more. She began to stand, and Kensi wondered if she would remain anonymous, but then, in a voice so soft it was barely audible she replied, “I am Rozalia. Rozalia Jaskolski” Then, just as Rozalia was ready to leave, she grasped Kensi’s hands once more, and something hard slipped between their joined hands before Rozalia quickly scurried to the door, where she was met by a stern-faced Nikolai, who spoke in a harsh voice to her before leering at Kensi and shutting the door with a bang.

Exhausted, in complete agony, Kensi lay back on the dirty mattress with a groan, too tired to even cry. As her hand flopped down, she came across her shirt and bra, and with slow, shaky movements she put them on her sore body with a sigh. Finally, she lifted the object Rozalia had given to her close to her face. It was a scalpel. A weapon.

Although she wouldn’t let it go far, Kensi felt hope begin to spark in her chest.

Maybe she could, _no,_ she _would_ get out of this hell.


	6. Freefall

_He floated in the darkness, a swaying movement similar to the waves that would rock his board on a good surfing day and swing him into the calm his soul so desperately needed but so rarely felt. Fragments, pieces of memory flashed past his eyes as if a movie screen was playing right in his lids._

_Kensi sitting on the boathouse dock, one foot stirring the water as she tried to forget the pain of her difficult case…_

_Her grin as they sparred, knowing that he was going to lose, no matter what the circumstances…_

_Her broad smile as she played a game of Fetch with Monty, petting his scruffy head every time he returned the ragged Frisbee to her…_

_Her laugh- one of the rare times that she_ actually _laughed- an open, gentle, warm laugh that always seemed to fill the whole room…_

_Suddenly, his memories were violently torn asunder by a heart-tearing vision. Kensi was lying prone on a filth-covered mattress, her naked body just barely concealed by a rough rag of a blanket. Her body had been reduced to skin and bone, and it seemed to him that every exposed inch was covered in a bruise, laceration or burn.  Her mismatched eyes shone with unshed tears as she looked directly at him. She raised her shaking hand to him, as if begging for him to save her. He reached down and scooped Kensi into the safety of his muscular arms. He began to run and run, as far as he could from the hell she had been kept in. As he ran, her voice started to softly call his name, over and over…_

_Deeks, Deeks, Deeks…_

“DEEKS!”

The shout rousted him out of the dream with the suddenness of splashing into ice-cold water. He tried to sit upright, but something around his wrists held him back. The light was too bright, his head was too sore and his arms too tightly bound. Panicked, he thrashed and screamed curses until a pair of hands pinned him back to the bed frame by his shoulders and a familiarly deep voice barked, “Deeks, stop it!”

Marty turned his head to see Sam’s face mere inches from his own. The former SEAL’s entire body was practically lying on top of Marty’s and still Sam’s arms twitched with the effort of holding the struggling detective down. It was this sight that convinced Marty to take several deep breaths. He struggled to calm himself, but he couldn’t cease his thoughts of Kensi’s desperate face, her reaching hand, and her pained eyes. Her eyes were what finished him- the thought was just too much.

Before he could stop himself, he resumed his thrashing, fighting once more to free himself from his restraints. There was a sudden cacophony of sound in response to his screaming and fighting, and something sharp was jabbed into his arm. Within seconds, a fuzzy, drowsy feeling overtook him and he fell limply to the bed.

Despite the sedative, Marty remained somewhat aware of his surroundings, although everything, from the white of the walls to the low buzz of voices, had taken on a transcendent, dream-like quality. Through bleary eyes, he idly followed a diminutive figure stroll in and walk up to Callen, whose familiar face kept sliding in and out of focus. It took Marty several long seconds to realize that the figure was Hetty. She spoke softly, and her voice came out distorted and warped as if he was hearing it with water in his ears.

“What happened, Mr. Callen?”

Callen grunted, his voice just as strange- sounding. “He woke about five minutes ago, fighting like a madman. He started to calm down when Sam grabbed him, but then for some reason he started thrashing around again and the doctor had him sedated.”

When Hetty responded, her voice was even more distorted than Callen’s was, and Marty sluggishly realized that he was drifting off to sleep. It was a struggle to stay awake just long enough to hear Hetty’s response.

“ _Why_ did this happen Mr. Callen? Why would Mr. Deeks do this to himself?” Callen opened his mouth to speak, but Marty, spurned on the relaxing effects of the sedative beat him to it. In the back of his mind a voice warned him not to say what he was going to say, but the drug spurred him on to speak.

“I…love…her. I…can’t…give…up. I…love…her.” Unable to fight the exhaustion any longer, he let his eyes drift shut, missing the astonished stares of his co-worker and his boss.

…..

The second time Marty woke, his thoughts were no longer possessed by Kensi’s tortured image and he was able to keep calm enough to turn his thoughts to assessing where he was rather than panicking. He was already aware that he was in some hospital, but where he was or how he got there, he had no clue.

His wrists were still bound, and when he looked down his body, he could see that they tightly wrapped in restraints made of some sort of fabric. His feet were likewise bound.

 _What the hell?_ he thought. Why was he restrained like this? He gave both his wrists and ankles an experimental tug, but none of the straps gave even the slightest bit. As he gave one more pull on the restraints and as his hands moved towards him, Marty noticed that both of his hands were heavily wrapped and three of his fingers were encased in braces. He stared at the damage, not really able to comprehend what he was seeing.

“You bashed up all the knuckles in both hands, broke three fingers an’ sprained both wrists, not to mention God knows how many stitches it took to sew the skin on your hands back together. Always knew you was an idiot, Deeks, but hell, I never thought you’d go an’ do _this_!” Deeks turned his head, and sitting next to the hospital bed, dwarfing the flimsy-looking folding chair he sat on was Sam. In response to his lecture, Marty merely smiled grimly to his co-worker.

“Ah hell, Sam, I’ve done much worse. Believe me.” Marty flinched as Sam abruptly stood, knocking the chair over in his rage. The former SEAL’s fists clenched and his breath came in short, sharp intervals.

“What in the _hell_ is wrong with you Deeks?!?!?” Sam’s voice didn’t rise above a low conversational volume, but his threatening tone scared Marty more than any amount of shouting could- when Sam got _that_ tone, bad things were going to happen. He fought the urge to shrink back as far into his bed as he possibly could. Sam’s eyes burned with a barely contained fury as he continued.

“You’re in a hospital, restrained, and you think it’s all a fu- a _joke_?!?!? I had to knock you out to stop you from destroying your own damned hands! What would drive you to do this? How could you be so thick-hea…”

“What if it was Michelle in Kensi’s position?”

At this, Sam stopped in mid-speech, his mouthing hanging wide open. For a few seconds it remained this way, then he closed it with an audible _snap_. Sam turned his head away from Marty, the big man’s teeth grinding audibly. There was a long, pregnant pause, and then Sam said something that Marty couldn’t hear.

“What?”

“I’d do the same damn thing, alright. I get it, you love Kensi.” The silence was long as the two men thought about the seriousness of these words, and then Sam sighed and continued. “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re tied up here.”

“No, it doesn’t, and I’m going to take a wild guess here and say that Hetty isn’t going to be letting me back on the case anytime soon.”

“ _No shit, Sherlock_.” Sam growled.

Marty ignored Sam’s sardonic comment. “First of all, can you at least take these restraints off of me? I promise I won’t go apeshit or anything.” Marty gave Sam a twisted smile, to which Sam merely snorted.

“I’ll just knock you back on you ass again.” he scoffed. The former SEAL hesitated for a moment, and then, somewhat reluctantly, he reached forward, and quickly undid the straps, making Marty wince at the sudden pins and needles in his wrists and ankles. Rubbing his wrists, he looked back to Sam.

“Where are you on the case?” he asked.

“Not very far. Soon as we dumped you at the hospital, Eric had security footage for us. Kensi was behind the boathouse like you said she would be. She didn’t have a chance- Nikolai struck her from behind and got a needle in her neck before she-“

“You’re _sure_ it was Nikolai?”

“Oh yeah.” Sam’s eyes darkened in anger. “That bastard must have looked straight into the cameras and grinned while he dragged Kensi to his car.” Marty swallowed back revulsion at the statement. He knew now that Nikolai _wanted_ them to know that it was him- that _he_ had captured Kensi. Marty pushed the thought aside- he was quickly learning that he needed to keep a complete hold on his emotions or he would never be able to help Kensi get back home. Instead he focused on bringing his investigative skills to the forefront.

“Did Eric track the car then?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t do us much good. Nikolai went into a neighborhood with no surveillance cameras and we’re pretty sure he swapped cars from there. LAPD found the first car, but it was empty. When they canvased the neighborhood, they found that all the houses are currently occupied by residents that have lived there for at least three years or more- long before we met Nikolai. There was also a pair of tire tracks near the car- someone was burnin’ rubber to get out of there.”

“So we’re at a dead end right now.”

“Maybe not. Several people saw a dark blue SUV take off from where the car was parked. Even got two letters off the license plate from a witness. Eric’s on Kaleidoscope right now trying to track the car down.” When Marty looked away, trying to hide his lack of conviction, Sam’s heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder. His voice dropped to a soft tone.  

“Marty, we’ll get her back, I promise.” The use of his first name made the detective look up. Sam’s brown eyes mirrored his own pain and sorrow. “I’ve got to go help G, but I’ll do what I can to keep you in the loop. I swear, I’ll do everything that I can to get Kensi back.” He clapped Marty’s shoulder once more and then left the room.

Under his breath, Marty muttered, “If she’s alive.”

…..

Later that night, after the nurses had unhooked Marty from the tubes and monitors, he walked out, ignoring the protests from the nurses and doctors, walked gratefully from the hospital, ignoring the pain from his agonized hands. Marty moved with leaden steps to his car and threw his heavy bag into the passenger seat with a grunt. He carefully made his way to the driver’s seat and sank into it with a heavy groan and sank his head into his hands and began to softly sob.

He was tired, oh so tired, both physically and emotionally. He didn’t want to continue- he just wanted to go home and sleep until Callen and Sam had brought Kensi home safe and sound, but he knew that he couldn’t do that- Kensi needed him. She needed her partner and he knew what she needed to do to save her. He needed to find the dirtbags and lowlife scum that populated the Los Angeles underworld and go where NCIS couldn’t. It would mean becoming a person he hated impersonating, but now he had no choice.

Pulling down his car’s sun visor, he checked his face in the mirror, noting his bloodshot eyes, mussed-up hair and dirty face. With a change of clothes and a few less-than-legal weapons, he would be ready to go undercover. He shoved the sun visor up and started the car.

“I’m coming Kens.”


	7. Escape

_Previously…_

_Finally, she lifted the object Rozalia had given to her close to her face. It was a scalpel. A weapon._

_Although she wouldn’t let it go far, Kensi felt hope begin to spark in her chest._

_Maybe she could, no, she would get out of this hell._

She had failed, and failed miserably. As Kensi lay naked and shivering on the filth-encrusted mattress, that served as her “bed”, she fought the waves of agony that racked her freshly-tortured body and stared blankly at the wall as she tried to figure how everything had gone so unbelievably, horribly wrong.

_Earlier in the day:_

It had started after Rozalia had given her the scalpel. Kensi had spent an agonizing night on the mattress, getting no more than twenty minutes of sleep because of her injuries. Only the scalpel and the thought of escape kept her going. However, the lack of sleep became her greatest foe.

The next morning, after another unappetizing round of sawdust-like gruel, Kensi had been dragged back to Nikolai’s torture room. Nikolai had momentarily released her hands to pull down the cuffs suspended from the ceiling. In that brief second Kensi pulled the scalpel from its hiding place in her hair and lunged forward, aiming for Nikolai’s exposed throat.  

The scalpel never reached its target.

Had Kensi been her normal self, she would have undoubtedly struck where she had been aiming and torn open Nickola’s unprotected throat. However, lack of adequate sleep and food, combined with her extensive injuries, slowed her down and caused her usually rock-steady hand to shake and jerk. It was enough for Nikolai to jerk his head to the side; the scalpel merely struck the side of his neck, slicing skin and muscle, bunt nothing vital.

As Kensi’s arm flew past Nikolai, he grabbed it and used her forward momentum to her to the floor. Instinctively, she kicked out at him, hoping to throw him enough off balance so that she could strike again, but with incredible speed Nikolai caught her foot, leveled her leg out and landed a devastating kick of his own to her knee.

There was an odd sound, somewhere between a _pop_ and a _crunch_ and Kensi’s knee bent sideways at an impossible angle. At first her adrenaline-saturated brain wouldn’t register the pain, but after three seconds of staring numbly at her oddly-positioned knee, the pain abruptly raced up Kensi’s leg with the ferocity of a wildfire. She collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony.

Nikolai, ignoring Kensi’s prone form, began to examine the scalpel with such intensity that it looked like he would burn a hole right through the tempered steel. Eventually his piercing gaze turned back to Kensi, and she shivered with terror, wondering what he had in mind for her now. He knelt down next to her prone body and gently, almost lovingly, caressed Kensi’s cheek with the flat of the blade. Kensi tried desperately tried to get away from the cold silver of the blade, but her shattered knee sent agonizing waves of pain with the movement. It wasn’t long before she had collapsed once again on the floor, panting with fear and pain.

The scalpel slid to Kensi’s throat and dimpled the flesh as Nikolai leaned in, his fetid breath bathing her face.

“A gift from Rozalia. I will have to thank her.” The look on Nikolai’s face promised anything but good things for Rozalia.

“No…don’t. It wasn’t her faul…”

“Shut up!” Nikolai backhanded Kensi’s cheek, causing her head to snap to the side. He then dropped his knee onto her sternum, driving her breath out of her lungs with a _whoosh._

“You are lucky, woman. In short time I fly to your country capital and find that traitor bitch and her family. Be glad you have no family. I will make her watch her bastard husband and sniveling brats die before I kill her. But I kill you first. Not today. Soon. Soon you die.” He stood upright, gave her damaged knee a solid kick before returning his attention to the cuffs suspended from the ceiling. After getting them into place, he half-dragged, half-carried her to the cuffs, hung her up, and began to torture her once more.

_Present_

_I shouldn’t have done anything._ Kensi thought as she traced a crack on the wall with her eyes. Because of her actions, she had likely signed Rozalia’s death warrant, and she had still been unable to stop Nikolai’s actions in any way. Worse, she was now crippled and it was likely that she wouldn’t get any medical treatment for her injuries, now that Nikolai was planning to kill her within the next few days. To top it all off, she could do nothing, nothing at all, to warn Ziva and her family in Washington D.C.

But would she have been any better off if she had done nothing? Nikolai would have tortured her regardless of her actions, and she _had_ been able to mark him- a small consolation, but a consolation nonetheless. That thought acted as a small spark, a spark that rekindled the fire deep within her chest. Through all the pain, torture and terror, Nikolai had managed to break Kensi down in only a matter of hours. He had made himself appear more than human- he had become a god of torture.

He wasn’t.

He had made a mistake, hadn’t he? He had allowed Kensi to get access to a weapon, and she had made him bleed.

She could do it again. She _would_ do it again.

Kensi’s fighting spirit, so long subdued, flared up like kerosene thrown on a bonfire, filling her every cell. It burned away the pain and humiliation, leaving her clear-headed and much stronger. One thought became her central focus: even if she was killed, she would never give Nikolai the satisfaction of seeing her beg again.

Her resolve growing, Kensi rolled her body over and felt something poke her back. Annoyed, she rolled over once more, and then something in her mind clicked. _The mattress springs!_ An idea began to form as Kensi’s probing fingers searched for the spring that had jabbed her. Finding it, she sawed the worn mattress fabric over the spring until the metal poked through. Her pulse quickening, Kensi worked the rusted spring back and forth until she was able to break a four-inch piece off of the spring. Kensi bent the piece once more, then dug once more into mattress and worked the springs again and again.

It took nearly two hours, as she often had to pause due to her near complete lack of strength. Not once was food or drink passed into her cell, and she idly wondered if Nikolai simply planned to starve her to death. The thought fueled Kensi’s determination, and she was finally able to remove enough springs and cloth to fashion a crude brace that could steady her broken knee. It took a great deal of effort, but she was eventually able to stand and limp over to the door. There she braced herself against the door and looked at the lock.

There was no interior mechanism for the lock, but Kensi had watched and heard it enough to know that it was a deadbolt- a relatively simple lock for her to open. However, she very quickly realized that her biggest problem was not the lock itself, but rather her tortured body. At first she was able to maneuver the springs into place with relative ease. Yet, as Kensi was working, she shifted her body and stepped on her shattered knee. In less time than it took to draw a breath, a bolt of pain shot up her entire body and the spring dropped to the floor with a clang.

Kensi, doubled over in pain, froze. Her pulse raced as the precariousness of the situation- if Nikolai were to come in to investigate the noise, she would lose everything she had worked for, including her life. Her body trembled in a combination of fear and pain as she waited breathlessly. She was certain that she hear the heavy footsteps of her tormentor within second. However, after several tense moments, the silence remained unbroken and Kensi slowly, awkwardly, reached down to retrieve the spring, biting back several curses. Once more she positioned the spring in the lock. Again and again she attacked the lock, and again and again her efforts were stymied.

Just as Kensi’s strength was about to fail completely, the lock slid open with an ominous “clank”. With cautious movements, she nudged the door open and was almost immediately blinded by the light from the open door. She slit her eyes, and once they had adjusted, she nudged the door open further, assessing her surroundings. Because Nikolai had always either blindfolded or moved Kensi far too fast to the “torture room” for her to see what surrounded her room.

The first thing that that Kensi noticed was that she wasn’t in any sort of warehouse or office building as she had originally thought. The dank smell of a basement permeated the air, and slime-coated concrete met her searching fingers as she ran them along the wall. The source of the light that had blinded her before came from a small window high on the wall about twenty feet away. Because of the window’s light, Kensi could see the surrounding area clearly. If was at least four or five times as large as her tiny prison room and mostly bare save for a few boxes taped closed and piles of unidentifiable trash. There were two rooms near Kensi’s- one was directly to the left of her room and one was further down, against the far wall.

She knew that the window would have been the quickest and most direct route out of the building, however, with her damaged leg, there was no way she would be able to climb up to the window. Kensi turned to the closest door, praying that her leg would hold long enough to escape her hell. She gave the knob an experimental turn, startling when the door opened silently. Instinctively, she backed up, waiting for Nikolai to come rushing through the door. When nothing happened, she carefully crept forward, eyeing the area. A rickety- looking wooden staircase led up into darkness. Ever so slowly, Kensi settled her bad leg on the stair, causing a creak to echo throughout the area. She froze, her ears tuned to the slightest noise, but nothing happened. Wherever Nikolai was, whatever he was doing, he couldn’t hear her escape.

Relief flooded Kensi’s body, but her training suddenly kicked in, and she moved towards the edge of the stairs were the wood was less likely to make noise. With utmost care and focus, Kensi half-dragged, half-pulled herself up step by step, pausing often to listen and rest. The journey was excruciating, exhausting and took much more effort than it ever should have, but Kensi wouldn’t let herself stop. Near the top of the staircase, Kensi encountered another door. Testing it, she found it unlocked as well. Inch by agonizing inch Kensi turned the knob until the door creaked open. Again she paused to listen, again everything was quiet.

Looking around, Kensi found herself in an open room, small and dark. At first, she wondered if she had taken much longer to get up the stairs than she had originally thought, but then some light filtered through and she realized that she was looking at a small, dingy, rustic cabin whose windows were covered in some sort of cloth. In the low light, Kensi could just make out three doors leading from the main room, one of which she had just come out of. However, exploration was the last thing on her mind, and she busied herself finding an exit.

She tried the nearest door and nearly screamed. There, on a large bed, illuminated by a single lamp, lay Nikolai, fast asleep. A book lay over his chest, and he snored loudly, explaining why she had managed to climb so clumsily up the stairs without alerting him to her escape. Clamping a hand over her mouth, Kensi stumbled backwards, nearly falling over. Nikolai grunted, shifted and groaned, making Kensi tense with fear. Her tormentor groaned once more and then resumed his loud snoring. Kensi let out a soft breath, then slowly closed the door and limped over to the other one and eased it open.

It led outside.

Kensi nearly wept with joy at her find, stopped, and assessed her surroundings. She was in deep forest, and it was nearly sunset. With luck, Nikolai would be out for a long while and would not notice her absence for some time. Likewise, the coming darkness would help hide her trail. On the other hand, she was badly injured, had no food or water, and no shelter, and might easily end up dead out in the forest rather than in the cabin.

A rock and a hard place indeed.

Looking back once more, she steeled herself and limped off into the forest. It was time to leave her nightmare behind. 


	8. Track

Marty tended to think of his undercover aliases as recipes- he would bring in dozens of “ingredients” to create a brand-new, unique persona that suited his needs. In the case of Max Gentry, Marty had scraped together the dregs of lowlife beings everywhere- pimps, gangbangers, drug dealers and even murderers. Throw in some extra churlishness, callousness and lack of empathy for good measure, and out popped one of the worst thugs to dirty the streets of Los Angeles.

Assuming the role of a hardened convict like Gentry was highly dangerous, of course. Not only did the real criminals he affiliated with in this role have a tendency to maim or kill any disliked “co-workers”, but Marty always ran the risk of being found out as a cop. In the L.A. underworld, being ratted out as any sort of law enforcement was almost always an instantaneous death sentence for the accused. 

Then again, no cop would ever get the information Marty could get acting as a felon, and at this point he needed all the information that he could possibly get.

The dingy old pool hall-slash-bar Marty skulked up to was just about as notable as the cracked concrete around it- it was just another run-down establishment in a city chalk-full of them. Even the bar’s name- _Higher Timez-_ lent it absolutely no credence. Most people of the city walked or drove by the building without giving it even a first glance.

It was, however, _the_ place to be if you were involved in criminal activity of any kind, hence it’s other name- “The Business Center”.  

As Marty pushed the old wooden door open, accompanied by several annoyingly loud creaks, he made a quick scan of the room. It was just as he remembered- dirty, scuffed tables and booths jammed together with rickety chairs and barstools, threadbare carpet, faded posters, an overly large and cracked TV that spat out more static than it did the football game, and a motley assembly of men in pairs and groups, nursing various drinks of questionable nature and casting shifty glances around the darkened room. Even the smell was exactly the same as he remembered- a caustic mix of sweat and stale beer with hints of vomit and urine.

Ah, the Business Center.

Marty walked through the lounge with a swagger that would put a gangster to shame. He scanned the patrons with a practiced eye until he found a thin, dirty man with thick, crusty dreadlocks and small black eyes that flitted around constantly as he took swigs from his half-empty beer bottle. Without a word, Marty slid into the seat across from him.

“Whaddya got, Rat?”

Packrat, (no one actually knew his real name), gathered information in the way his namesake collected junk. He was well known all over the criminal underworld as the man who could find you any information you needed- for a price, of course. If anyone could dig up Nikolai’s whereabouts, it was no doubt Packrat. The dingy man gave Marty a bored look from red-rimmed eyes.

“Money first, then I’ll give ya the goods.” Packrat rasped. His hoarse voice grated on Marty’s ears.

Marty pulled out a thick wad of cash from his ratty vest pocket and slid the money across the table. Packrat snatched the money up, did a brief yet thorough count, and then tucked the notes into one of the numerous pockets of his own vest and produced a think envelope from another grimy pocket. Packrat didn’t hand it over right away, but rather pulled it close, drumming his fingers on the thick paper.

“This Nikolai guy, he ain’t no easy find, Gentry. What’s yer beef with ‘im, anyway?”

Marty didn’t respond. Instead, he fixed Packrat with an impatient glare, calmly waiting until the thin man shifted and looked away.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’, I got it- it ain’t my business. Here.” Packrat shoved the envelope across the table where Marty snatched it up as if it might suddenly disappear. He undid the tie holding the flap closed and pulled out a pack of papers and photos.

Much of the information was simply a repeat of the data Eric and Nell had pulled from the NCIS database, but Marty pretended that it was all new information to him- he couldn’t very well say that he had seen this all before from federal files in a room full of cop killers.

Instead, Marty rummaged through the papers as if each word was critical information he had never seen before. Meanwhile, his desperation grew as the pile of papers diminished, and he feared greatly that he was being thrown back to square one, and 2000 grand short. Just then, two pieces of paper, previously unnoticed, fell out of the stack and onto the table. The first piece, fairly large, turned out to be a map of the San Gabriel Mountains north of Los Angeles. It was quite sparse- little more than a physical map. What writing was noticeable was in what looked like Hebrew to Marty. The second piece of paper was considerably smaller, a photo of newspaper written in Hebrew. Looking closer, Marty noticed that several of the symbols and words were circled in light pencil- hardly noticeable, but it was there.

“What the hell is this?” he asked Packrat, flashing the two papers. The man shrugged.

“Dunno. My… guy in Nickolai’s gang found it on the dude’s desk. It was clipped to that map, and the circles. Figured it could be useful. Ya know, if you want it translated, I know a guy…”

“…Who would charge me some goddamned overpriced fee to take care of it. Forget it, Rat. Ain’t gonna give you anymore dough than I need to.” Marty scooped up the papers and placed them back into the envelope. Packrat gave a sarcastic salute with his now-empty mug.

“Always a pleasure doin’ business, Gentry.”

…..

Marty didn’t waste any time getting back to Ops. He scanned the newspaper article and the map and sent both off an email. Thirty minutes later, Eric appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Deeks, you’ve got a call.”

As Marty started up the stairs, he found himself flanked almost instantly by Sam and Callen. They didn’t say a word, but he could tell by the look on their grim faces that his departure back into the criminal underworld would at some point be a very serious topic of discussion.

When he stepped past the sliding doors of the Ops center, Marty was greeted by the enlarged face of a rather striking woman framed by the main screen. She appeared tired- the sweatshirt she wore fit loosely, her long, dark brown curls were in disarray, and there were dark circles under her brown eyes. Nevertheless, she leaned forward, a sharp intensity in her unwavering gaze. Despite marriage and triplets, Ziva David-DiNozzo still carried more than a hint of her old Mossad training.

“Agent David-DiNozzo, thank you for responding so quickly on such a short notice.” Marty said formally. The NCIS agent nodded curtly.

“Please, call me Ziva.” The woman’s voice was soft, yet held a strength that few people in the world had. “And anything to help find Kensi and bring her back safely is worth every second of my time.” The “pleasantries” done, Ziva shifted her gaze to what Marty assumed were copies of the newspaper and the map. She lifted a copy of the newspaper to the screen.

“This _is_ part of a newspaper, however, as you suspected, it is _not_ the article that is relevant, but rather the circled words- they are all numbers. The numbers would make no sense if you were to read them as you would read Hebrew, that is, right-to-left. However, if you were to read them left-to-right, they create coordinates corresponding to the map. I- _No, Tali!_ ” Ziva suddenly ducked out of the screen and, after a rapid mix of Hebrew and English, came back up holding a squirming infant in her arms. The little girl, whom Marty remembered was blind, wriggled unhappily and chanted “nonononono!” until Ziva tucked her close to her chest and hummed. Within seconds Tali had calmed down. Ziva turned back to the screen.

“My apologies. I could not leave my children alone, not with Nikolai at large.”

Marty nodded quickly. “Of course, I understand completely.” Something in his throat knotted at the sight, and for the briefest moment Kensi- smiling, happy and whole- took Ziva’s place. Swallowing past the lump, he rasped, “Please, tell me what you found.”

Ziva’s brown eyes were soft, and in the briefest of moments, he saw empathy within their depths that he had seen nowhere else. She clearly understood what he was going through. “Yes, yes, of course. When I looked at the copy of the map that you sent to me, the coordinates created a sort of rectangle around this area. Here, let me show you” She reached around the now-sleeping baby and typed a few commands. Eric’s computer beeped, and he reached over to send the picture to a secondary screen where everyone in the room could see it. The map that Marty had found earlier was now marked with a thick red rectangle, with dots at each corner. Each dot had hand-written coordinates next to it, and a line underneath was marked “15 mi”.

“You have it?” Ziva asked and Marty nodded. “Good. As you can see, the coordinates created a rough rectangle in the mountains. It’s a thirty-mile square area near a forest road. In that area there are a series of ridges and valleys that could easily conceal a small building from satellite. Beyond that, I cannot tell you anything more- I am truly sorry. Please, let me know if there is anything, _anything_ I can do for you and Kensi Mr. Marty.”

“Thank you Agen- Ziva.” Then, on a whim, he added, “I know it’s not really my business, but please kee- keep safe.” Ziva gave him a weak smile and a nod, and then reached over to turn off the video.

Eric maneuvered the map up to the main screen, typed in a few commands on his computer and superimposed a satellite picture from the internet over Ziva’s map. With a few deft keystrokes, the tech pulled Ziva’s hand-drawn rectangle with the coordinates onto the satellite photo and blew the 30 square mile area she had found up so that it was blown up at least two or three times what had been seen on the original map. Sam moved up next to Sam and stared it over with brooding eyes, until suddenly he jerked his finger in the direction of a small shadow visible on the left hand side of the screen.

“There. See that ridge? Eric, blow it up.” Eric, following Sam’s finger, enlarged the area he indicated until a rocky ridge came into view on the screen. The image started out as blurry, but after a few clicks of his computer keys, Eric sharpened the image until it looked like they were right on top of dips and peaks. Sam rubbed his thick chin until he nodded sharply. “Yeah, right there. Look.” He tapped the shadowed area. “It’s far enough from that road there to be hidden, yet close enough that he can get in and out without too much trouble. Looks like it’s about a half hour from Filmore- he can get supplies there when he needs them.”

“Hold on,” Eric said quickly. He tapped a few keys, clicked his mouse, tapped a few more keys, and suddenly the rectangle faded along with the greens and browns of the terrain, replaced by the unnatural colors of a thermal map. Much of the area showed no activity, but hidden away in Sam’s ridge was a red glow, square in shape, the right size and shape of a small building. Marty’ eyes narrowed, and he indicated to Eric to print out the coordinates, satellite image and driving directions. When Marty got the printouts, Callen nodded.

“Alright, let’s go get Kensi back.”

…..

Although the drive was supposed to be a little over an hour in length, the team was at a warehouse-type building- the established rendezvous point- within fifty minutes. Using the building, the car was left behind in favor for ATVs modified for silence. After gearing up, Marty, Callen, Sam and five LAPD SWAT officers drove the remaining few minutes until they felt they were too close and proceeded on foot. With rifles clenched close to reduce noise and communication reduced to only hand signals, they surrounded the tiny, secluded cabin, aiming their weapon’s muzzles at the rough-hewn logs. Sam gave the signal, and the eight men rushed the building. Roaring, they cleared each room, finding nothing other than a room that had been recently vacated. Just as they were about to leave and check the outside, Marty opened a door and found a basement section.

“Guys!” he hissed, jerking his gun in the direction of the downward-leading steps. Callen and Sam left the SWAT officers to secure the outside of the building and followed Marty down the stairs, their combat boots sounding overly loud in the quiet gloom. As they descended further and further, an uneasy feeling grew in Marty’s gut, threatening to overwhelm him as the stench of unwashed body and old blood filled the air. They swept past the first open door that led to nothing more than a storage room. The second door was locked and closed, and when they rammed it open, the stench of decaying body hit them like a wave. Marty couldn’t see much, since Sam pushed him back so that Callen could enter the room. It took the senior agent only seconds to confirm that the body was thankfully not Kensi’s. Marty let out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding.

It wasn’t until they reached the third and fourth rooms that Marty realized the full extent of what had happened to his partner. The third room was filled with manacles hanging from the ceiling, stained with what looked uncomfortably like old blood. Sweat, blood, burned flesh and unwashed body odor filled the air, accompanied with the unmistakable tang of fear and pain. Marty almost ran over his companions in his haste to get out of the terrifying area. By mistake, he stumbled into the fourth room, where he found a ragged mattress that had been torn apart to get at the box springs. In the thick dust and dirt in the room, he saw the unmistakable marks of footprints- one of a normal woman’s footprint of Kensi’s size and one that had been dragged as if the limb had been damaged. The prints led out of the room and back into the dim hallway and up the stairs.

She had gotten out. She was hurt, hunted and weak, but she was alive and _free._

Marty wasted no time in meeting up again with Sam and Callen, pointing to the prints on the floor. Not a word was said. The men knew what needed to be done. There was no sign of Nikolai, and it was clear that he was also after Kensi. It had become a race. With a clipped, curt conversation, the NCIS team members informed the officers of what was going on, and the eight enforcement members set out into the woods, tracking the faint impressions made in the dirt.

They walked for an hour, spread out in a loose ‘V’ formation, tracking the distinct prints until they hit a rocky patch and abruptly disappeared. Marty was turning around to re-trace his steps when he heard a heavy shuffling noise behind him. Swinging his body around sharply, he saw a shadow flit across two trees, heading towards him. He raised his gun, steadying himself, and bellowed, “LAPD! Put your hands on your head and come out slowly where I can see you!” The figure paused, and then stumbled towards him in a lumbering gait. He aimed his weapon and was about to fire when a hoarse voice called out his name and then a body crashed through the undergrowth, landing limply at his feet.

It was Kensi.


	9. Found

The first thirty minutes or so after leaving the cabin, Kensi was able to maintain a somewhat steady pace and straight heading. Driven on by a heavy dose of adrenaline, she was able to ignore her pain and fatigue enough to remember what she had learned from her father and keep a cool head.

Then the pain and exhaustion set it and she began to lose all control of the situation. Determination and level-headedness gave way to fear and panic, and while it did give her a much-needed boost of heavy adrenaline, it also made every snapped twig into a heavy footstep, every rustled leaf a body brushing  through the foliage to follow her and every flitting movement Nikolai’s hands reaching… reaching… Blind terror took over, driving her to make mistakes she never would have- running rather than hiding, moving through easily-marked mud instead of solid rock, to use up more energy than she could afford to lose. It also pushed her in the wrong direction, Kensi was lost, alone, badly hurt, terrified and time was running out.

As the sun began to sink below the trees, Kensi thought she heard multiple footsteps. At first she shied away from the sound, fearing that Nikolai had finally caught up with her, but then a wonderfully familiar voice echoed through the trees.

“LAPD! Put your hands on your head and come out slowly where I can see you!”

It could have been a trick, even a figment of her delirious imagination, but at that moment something from deep within broke. She just didn’t care about safety anymore- she was exhausted, her whole body was in agony, likely near death and in such need of a friend, a companion, someone who wouldn’t hurt her that she allowed her normal caution to fall away. She half-ran, half-stumbled forward and saw Deeks clearly for the first time in days. His face looked haggard, his beard untrimmed, dark shadows under feverous eyes and several cuts and bruises were visible on his hands. His M4 carbine was up, its muzzle pointed directly at her. Confusion slowed her already sluggish progress- why would he threaten her?

“Deeks?” Her voice was hoarse, rough. She took another hesitant step, missed her footing and fell down the incline separating the two of them, landing at her partner’s feet and directly on her broken leg. It was just too damn much. A fresh wave of pain shot through her entire system and Kensi faded away, only vaguely away of Deeks’ frantic shouts.

Her memory and senses cut in and out like a television during a storm, made worse by the fact that she was never able to get a whole picture, just flashes of sensations. _Deeks, his face close and yet out of focus, shouting something incomprehensible. Trying to respond, to say she couldn’t understand him, but her stupid tongue lay thick and unresponsive in her mouth. A rhythmic thudding, fantastically loud. Her body jostled, but no pain, just numbness. More voices, the thudding growing unbearably loud in her ears. Unfamiliar faces, made even more strange by their fuzzy features, hanging in a blurred void. The sensation of rapid movement, a pinprick in her arm._

_Then, nothing._

…..

Marty paced a very precise track the Los Angeles County General’s ER waiting room- thirty steps, turn, thirty steps, turn- his mind in complete turmoil. At the desk, the young triage nurse watched him warily, but he was too engrossed in his recollections to notice.

The complete shock of seeing Kensi, _his Kensi_ , lying prone on the ground in front of him had stunned him into forgetting all tactical training and sinking to his knees next to her, his world shrinking to just him and his partner. Then he had noticed the blood leaking from over a dozen wounds and he was roughly jerked back into action. Shouting for Callen and Sam, he assessed what damage he found without removing what remaining clothing was left on Kensi’s battered body- not that there was much to begin with. Sam and Callen were at his side within thirty seconds, Callen barking into his walkie for LAPD to bring in a helicopter while Sam took over medical care. Nikolai was all but forgotten as the three men did what they could to stabilized their partner, secure the area and ready her for transport. The helicopter was present within five minutes, and forty minutes later she was at the Los Angeles County General.

And now Marty was forced to wait.

Footsteps heading towards him made his head snap up to see Callen and Sam walking his way. As soon as they were in speaking distance, Marty wasted no time in answering their unasked question.

“She’s still in surgery. That’s all I know.” Both nodded, their faces grim. Sam was the first to speak. Placing a hand on Marty’s shoulder, he murmured “We’re here for you. _Both_ of you.” Marty nodded dumbly, not trusting himself to speak.

Callen and Sam took seats while Marty resumed his pacing. Thirty steps, turn, thirty steps, turn. No one spoke. What was there to say? They had all seen the injuries, the pain, the absolute defeat Kensi had displayed. They were all well aware of what Nikolai was capable of and what he had likely done. No one wanted to think about what may have happened, let alone say it out loud.

Thirty steps, turn, thirty-

“Detective Deeks?”

Marty was so caught up in his thoughts that he visibly flinched at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. It took him several seconds to get his heart back under control, but once he did, he managed to re-arrange his features into a more neutral expression. Sam and Callen were already turned to the speaker- a middle-aged doctor wearing a white lab coat and a hijab. The woman looked equally startled at Marty’s reaction but quickly brought herself back under control.

“We have you listed as Ms. Blye’s next of kin. Is this correct?” When Marty croaked out a raspy “yes”, the doctor continued, “I need to speak to you about Ms. Blye, Detective. If you’ll follow me please.”

Sam and Callen stood up together along with Marty, causing the doctor the pause, clearly preparing to reject them, but Marty spoke first.

“Excuse me Dr…” He tried to read the doctor’s nametag, but couldn’t quite make it out with his fogged mind.

“Samara.”

“Dr. Samara. I authorize them both to be present. We’re… what family she has.” Not entirely true, of course, but Marty knew Kensi and her mother hadn’t quite reconciled as of yet.

Dr. Samara sighed but nodded. “Alright, but you will need to sign a release form. It’s hospital policy.”

Marty wasted little time in procuring and signing the required form and soon all three co-workers were headed down a hallway and into a small conference room. They are all took seats, turned down offers of beverages, and finally, _finally_ the doctor began.

“The good news is that Ms. Blye is stable and out of danger for now. We had to anesthetize her in order to perform surgery on her injuries and she is still out from that. However…” Here Dr. Samara paused, and Marty’s hands instinctively formed tight fists in his lap as the doctor continued.

“Ms. Blye, suffered extensive trauma, both physically and likely mentally from her… ordeal.” The doctor paused once again, scanned the grim-faced men before her and then continued. “Ms. Blye’s injuries were, as I mentioned, extensive and quite severe. Her right knee was badly broken, and will likely need to be replaced. Her ribs are also broken, three molars on her upper jaw are broken and one was completely knocked loose from her gums. She has a severe laceration on her left arm that resulted in re-damaged muscle tissue as well as numerous other laceration on her body. She also has multiple burns, likely from cigarettes, on her breasts.”

Instantly the tension in the room rose almost twofold. A strange ringing began in Marty’s ears while both fists clenched further until the knuckles went bone-white. He had to take several deep breaths in order to concentrate on the doctor’s next words as he had an overwhelming urge to lash out at something, _anything._

“Everything will likely heal, although Ms. Blye will almost certainly bear scars and require physical therapy and will probably require replacement surgery on her knee. However, her mental state is what concerns me the most. She has suffered more physical, mental and emotional trauma over the course of a few days than most people will ever experience in a lifetime, and she will likely suffer emotionally as a result. I cannot say anything for certain as I am not a psychologist, but be prepared for the repercussions.

Silence reigned once more in the confined room, stretching out as each man tried to digest the news. Callen stared at the door, his hands flexing and relaxing rhythmically. Sam ran his hands slowly over his bald head. Marty just stared. He was too numb to do anything else. Hearing the injuries described, the abuses his partner had suffered, had finally hurled the detective into harsh reality. It was if he had woken from a nightmare only to find it had come true. Dr. Samara began again, but he barely heard the words, as if they were far away.

“Are you ready to go see her Detective, or do you still need some time to process this? Either is fine.”

Still in shock, Mary got up with a muttered “Let’s go,” before following the doctor down a few more hallways and into Kensi’s room.

From the doctor’s words Marty half-expected to find Kensi hooked up to so many tubes and wires that she would practically be invisible under all the equipment. Or perhaps she would be wild-eyed with fear and pain, fighting well-meaning nurses as she was restrained and sedated once more. The scene in the hospital room was nothing like that. Kensi’s right leg was encased in a gigantic cast and suspended by several wires. She was hooked up to an IV, a nasal cannula, heart monitor and something that Marty strongly suspected was a catheter. Kensi’s face was relaxed, even peaceful in sleep and the heart monitor blipped on with a steady, encouraging beat.  

Marty sank into a nearby chair and tentatively ran a finger through a few wayward strands of Kensi’s hair. Evidence of the abuse she had suffered, missed in the initial shock of seeing her _alive,_ now became readily apparent. Scratches and bruises marked her face, neck, shoulders and arms (and these were the places he could see), the right side of her jaw was swollen and her left arm was once more swathed in bandages. He was infinitely relieved that her torso was covered up. He didn’t, _couldn’t,_ even begin to think about what kind of mental torture Kensi had been subjected to during her kidnapping.

A soft groan made him look up to see Sam and Callen walk into Kensi’s room. The groan had come from Sam, who was running a hand over his face while Callen simply stood still, his jaw visibly tightening. Marty looked away. It was difficult enough to deal with his own reactions, let alone those of his friends. Sam was the first to stand at Kensi’s side. He reached forward with a hand, snatched it back as if he’d been burned, then let it drift over Kensi’s curls. Callen picked at her sheet for a moment, then spoke in a tight, low voice His someone’s-going-to-die-for-this voice.

“You have protection detail tonight Marty.” It wasn’t a question. “We’ll fill Hetty in on the latest and then we’re going to find Nikolai.” At the mere mention of Kensi’s captor, the atmosphere in the room became so charged that a nurse who had come in to check on her muttered a quick “Maybe later” and rushed out. All three men knew how it had to end. Come hell or high water, Nikolai would not survive for what he had done. Marty said nothing, merely nodded. He’d have gone after the sonofabitch himself, but right now Kensi was his top priority. As Callen and Sam left, Marty leaned over to brush a kiss over Kensi’s lips.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

…..

Later, much later, Marty was jolted out of a fitful sleep by an abrupt howl and the sound of the terminal’s alarm. Kensi had come awake fighting, swinging her fists and screaming wordlessly, her eyes wet and unfocused. It was such a violent and startling wakening that Marty could only stare in shock while his partner battled an invisible enemy.

The sound of approaching voices spurred Marty into motion, and without really thinking about his actions, he leaned forward to catch one of Kensi’s flailing left wrist. It was the worst possible thing he could have done. Still clearly in fight-or-flight mode, Kensi _shrieked_. Her free hand formed a claw and with astonishing speed, she raked it across Marty’s face, leaving bloody furrows. He reared back, instantly releasing her wrist, and covered his face with one hand. He forced himself to take deep, calming breaths and start to think rationally. Kensi had been _kidnapped_ for God’s sake.

“Kensi, it’s me, Deeks!”

Kensi didn’t immediately stop, she didn’t even pause, but Marty did see her eyes land on him and for the briefest instant, a hint of recognition flashed through them. Holding his hands up to where she could easily see them, ignoring the dripping blood, Marty began to speak in as calm and soft of a voice as he could manage.

“Kens, Kens, it’s me, it’s Deeks. It’s Marty, your idiot partner. You’re safe now, okay? You’re in a hospital, I’m here, no one will hurt you.” He kept talking, sprouting whatever might help, no matter how small, how seemingly insignificant, hoping that something, _anything_ might calm Kensi down.

To his immense relief, it worked. The terror-stricken look slowly faded away, her shrieks died down, and Kensi began to look around, _really_ look around her room. She didn’t say anything, nor did she make any sign that she recognized Marty, but he was relieved to see that she was taking stock of her surroundings rather than simply panicking. The two nurses Marty had been holding back entered the room cautiously. One slowly approached Kensi, speaking softly while the other came up to Marty and started to clean the scratches across his face. He tolerated the cleaning and patching, but he was impatient to spend time alone with Kensi now that she was conscious. Thankfully, the nurses seemed to understand what he wanted and completed their jobs quickly and left the room.

Once they were gone, Marty resumed his post b Kensi’s bed, although he kept his distance. Her eyes roamed again around the room, looking everywhere but where he was.

“Kensi, are in pain? Do you need me…”

“I’m fine.” Her voice, so hoarse and soft, made him jump. It carried a strange note in it, one that suggested something more was amiss. “Which… which hospital?”

It took him a few seconds to register what she was asking.

“Wha? Oh. Um, Los Angeles County General.” Kensi nodded and fell silent.

“Kensi.” She didn’t look at him. “Look, I need to get this off my chest. I know you’ve been through nothing short of hell and I know that I will never be able to relate to what you’ve had to deal with. But I do know that I will _not_ give up on you, no matter what. I thought I was going to lose you.” A sob worked its way up his throat and he angrily forced it down. “I thought I lost you, and I don’t ever want to feel like that again. So no matter what happens, I’m here for you. If you need someone to lean on, I’m here. If you need your space, I’ll wait. But please, _please_ don’t try to take this on by yourself. Don’t shut me out. I can’t bear…” The sob forced its way out, forcing him to stop. “…I can’t… Kensi, I love you.”

It was out.

Kensi remained quiet, and Marty, thinking that he had gone too far, stood up and turned to leave. Suddenly a hand grasped his lower arm.

“Wait.” Kensi’s voice took on a stronger tone, making him turn around. This time, her eyes locked directly on his. “Don’t…leave. Please. It’s just a lot to think about.” Her voice had an edge to it that made him believe she was close to tears.

Marty sank down next to her and grasped her hand in both of his. Looking her directly in the eyes, he whispered, “I’m sorry Kens. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I just don’t want you to have to go through this on your own. I’m here for you, okay?” Kensi slowly wrapped her fingers around his and smiled, although her lids began to drift shut. It was clear that the past minutes had taken their toll. Within seconds her eyes were shut, but just when Marty thought she had fallen asleep, she murmured something so soft he had to lean close to hear her.

“Love you to…Marty.” 


	10. Recover

Kensi had experienced nightmares before. When her father died, she had dreamed of him several times- a bloody mess reaching out to her, screaming her name until the last breath left his battered body. When Jack had left her, her nightmare showed her dying alone, with no one to care about her passing.

But these two paled in comparison to the ones she experienced after her kidnapping. They replayed memories of her ordeal so vivid, so frightening, that she would wake up to the sound of her own screaming, her wounds burning. Marty, who did not leave her bedside other than for necessary reasons, had quickly learned to give her space when this happened, as more than once Kensi had mistaken him for Nikolai and as a result injured him in some way. Instead, he would patiently wait out of striking distance, speaking softly and soothingly until Kensi had calmed down enough to let him draw close. He never asked her to tell him about her nightmares, never asked her to say anything at all and for that she was grateful. For Kensi, re-visiting her terrors was too agonizing; she just wanted to forget about them, not bring them to light.

Instead, Marty would just talk. He would tell her stories from their pasts, his past, or just read from something boring (although he continually protested that his surfing magazines were _far_ from boring material, until both of them had calmed down. No matter what happened, he stayed with her through her terrors, keeping her sane.

On the third day (evening, actually) after waking up in the hospital, Kensi was finally able to leave, despite the protests of Dr. Samara. Not that it mattered. Kensi would have found a way out sooner or later. She had never been happier to see the outside as she was when she left Los Angeles County General. Deeks drove her home (she couldn’t drive thanks to the fact she would not get the cast off her leg for several weeks) and helped her into her home.

To her surprise, the apartment looked exactly the same as when she had left it. Kensi wasn’t entirely sure why, but for some reason she almost expected something to be different, someone to notice. Instead, the world appeared to have moved on, not caring that she had endured kidnapping and torture. It was actually someone upsetting.

It took some time to get inside, thanks to the new crutches, but considering that Kensi had hobbled around on that same leg for hours with nothing but a flimsy brace constructed out of bed springs, crutches were hardly a daunting task.

Once inside, Kensi made a beeline towards her room. Looking over her shoulder at Deeks she said, “I need to change. There might be something still edible in the pantry if you’re hungry.” Without waiting for his reply, she lurched into her bedroom and closed the door.

She didn’t waste any time in shedding the clothing she had come home in. The clothes had been “donated” from the NCIS wardrobe-she could clearly see Hetty’s small, neat writing on the tags- and had been given to replace the torn, shredded and stinking clothing that Kensi had been forced to wear throughout her kidnapping. The new clothes were… nice enough ( _too_ nice, really), but they weren’t Kensi’s. She was all too happy to find a comfortable pair of shorts and a well-worn tee to use instead. Kensi managed to remove the borrowed garments with only a bit of trouble, but when she went to put on her shorts, everything went completely wrong. As she tried to maneuver her casted leg into the pants hole, she over-stretched her bad arm, causing a flare of pain. It was so bad that Kensi unintentionally tensed up and lost her balance, slipping off the foot of the bed and landing with a crash that blacked her out for several seconds.

When Kensi came around, Deeks was kneeling by her side, his face a mask of concern. For a few seconds, Kensi couldn’t fathom why he was there and what was going on, but then she looked down and saw that she was wearing more than a bra and underwear. Her memories came rushing back mercilessly along with the realization that she was almost completely exposed to Deeks. A strangled screaming yelp escaped her lips as she curled her body into a protective ball, desperately attempting to conceal her semi-nakedness and scars. From the soft gasp she heard, it hadn’t worked. Shame crept through her entire body, making her tremble violently as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

Suddenly something soft enveloped her, and Kensi cracked her eyes open to see that Deeks had wrapped one of the light blankets she kept in her room around her, hiding her body from view. The simple gesture, combined with everything that had happened in the previous days, was enough to send Kensi into full-fledged crying. A warm arm circled her shoulders and drew her into an even warmer body and she didn’t fight it. She just _sobbed._ Sobbed for her pain, sobbed for her sanity, sobbed for the shame she felt in her partner seeing her so damaged, so wounded. Deeks gently rocked her back and forth, murmuring “Kens, I’m so sorry Kens,” over and over, in a voice that sounded close to tears itself.

Eventually Kensi’s tears abated and she realized that her head was resting on Deek’s chest, her hands gripping his t-shirt so tightly her knuckles were turning white. A dark splotch was spreading from her eyes across the fabric. She pulled away, shame once more overwhelming her.

“Hey, hey,” Deeks whispered, stroking her cheek with a gentle hand. “I’m here for you, okay? You don’t need to be ashamed. You’ve been through hell and you don’t need to go through it alone, remember?” Kensi nodded and swiped a hand across her eyes. “Just give me time Marty. I just need some time.”

…..

Dusk had fallen when Kensi, now fully clothed, wanted to call it a day, but the thought of the approaching night (and the subsequent nightmares), twisted her gut into a writhing ball of anxiety. She was terrified of being alone with her own thoughts, but her upbringing and self-maintained status quo refused to let her ask for company, even after her “clothing incident”.

Her stubborn side won out. She allowed Deeks to remain through a takeout dinner from Yummy Yummy Heart Attack, and then told him to leave. He protested of course, citing her condition and the fact that Nikolai was still on the loose, but Kensi merely replied that she still had a backup gun, knife and a cell phone. She also suspected Marty had called in favors to get a patrol car to keep an eye on her, something he didn’t necessarily deny.

“I’ll be _fine_ Deeks. I’ll even keep my bedroom door locked for you. Go home and get cleaned up. You stink.” When that didn’t get a response, Kensi sighed and gave Deeks a gentle nudge with her crutch. “Seriously, Marty, I’ll be okay. You’ve already done enough for me these past few days. Go home, remind Monty you still love him and take some time for yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Deeks still looked quite unconvinced.

“You’ll call me right away?” He grumbled.

“ _Yes._ Now go.”

Finally, reluctantly, Deeks turned and headed out her front door, looking back several times. Kensi waited until he drove away, and then made her way into her bedroom. She was already worn out from the day’s events, so much so that her earlier anxiety had abated. Too tired to shower or change, Kensi merely crashed in her bed and within seconds she was fast asleep.

…..

The nightmare didn’t creep, didn’t wait. Instead, it slammed around Kensi like the steel jaws of a trap, forcing her into a horrendously realistic world she could not escape from. _She was back in the forest, lost, alone and terrified. Kensi desperately dragged her wounded leg behind her, striving to escape from the snapping branches and heavy breathing that tracked her every move. Worst of all, a low, mocking laugh followed her, growing louder with each desperate step._

_A new sound entered the dream then, a familiar voice that sent relief flushing through her system. Deeks was calling, calling her name, and she yelled out, trying to get his attention. Just when Kensi thought she had caught a glimpse of blonde hair, a strong arm wrapped around her neck, pulling her violently backwards. Kensi kicked, screamed and struggled to no avail as Deek’s voice grew fainter and fainter._

_The scene rushed forward with impossible speed, until Kensi was once more suspended above the blood-splattered concrete floor of Nikolai’s cabin basement. Her tormentor was standing in front of her, a malicious smirk across his ugly face. He was playing with a lighter, flicking it open and closed so that the flame flashed in a regular, ominous rhythm. Kensi could see the unlit cigarette in his other hand._

_“No, no, no, no wake up, it’s just a dream, oh God, Deeks where are you , noooo…” she moaned, trying to pull away. Nikolai laughed then, a deep cruel sound that sent tremors through Kensi’s core as he lit the cigarette._

_“You cannot escape me. Never.” He whispered, lifting the burning tip and driving it towards her…_

“NO!” Kensi shot bolt upright, awakened by her screaming. She was completely wrapped in something, trapped so that she couldn’t move, couldn’t escape. Kensi struggled with all of her might, rolling and thrashing until she suddenly fell, landing with a jarring thud on a hard floor. Pain shot throughout her entire body, allowing for Kensi’s head to clear somewhat, enough at least to remember where she was. Her panic abated for a few brief seconds before she remembered her nightmare and, in particular, Nikolai’s leering face. A cold dread shot through her. Was that his heavy step, causing the floor to creak? Was she hearing his panting breath, his excitement at the hunt? Was- Without fully realizing it, Kensi had grabbed her phone and was dialing Deek’s number. He answered before the first ring had even finished.

“Kens, what’s the matter?”

“He…he…was there Deeks…” a sob racked her throat, cutting off her words.

“Nikolai?!? He’s there right now!?” Even over the tiny speaker, she could clearly hear the sound of Deeks’ feet slapping the floor in unison.

“No! No, he… he… was there… in my dreams… in my head.” Once again, the cell phone’s speaker clearly transmitted Deeks’ heavy sigh of relief.

“Whooooh… okay, okay Kens. I’m right on my way over, okay? Just take some deep breaths. Deep breaths, got it? I’ll be there in five.”

“Don’t hang up!” Later, it might have felt foolish, but at that very moment, the only thing keeping everything at bay was the sound of his voice.

“I’m not going to, I won’t hang up. Hey, wanna hear a funny story?” He kept talking throughout his entire drive over, only pausing once to speak to the officer posted outside her building (she _had_ been right about that).

“Alright Kens, will you go to your front door? I’m right outside of it- you can check your peephole.” Slowly, cautiously, with one hand tightly gripping her father’s knife, Kensi made her way to the door, turning on every light along her path. Looking nervously through the peephole, Kensi saw that not only was Marty indeed there, but he brought Marty along as well. Kensi was surprised at the relief she felt at seeing them there (even Monty), and opened the door just enough for the two to get inside. As soon as the door was closed, Kensi dropped her knife and more or less fell forward into Deeks’ arms, tears running unchecked down her face. He somehow maneuvered, Marty and himself to the nearby couch, settled them all into a more stable position, and began murmuring softly to Kensi while holding her close. Even Monty seemed unhappy about Kensi’s tears- he whined softly and placed his shaggy head on her knee. Normally that would have caused her to at least crack a smile, but all Kensi could do was cry into Deeks’ shoulder while he gently rocked her back and forth.

Eventually Kensi’s sobs quieted enough that she was able to haltingly tell her partner what happened. Every detail came out, and although it was painful, Kensi felt a sort of release at being able to let it all go. Deeks, for his part, said little and took everything in without the slightest hint of disbelief or scorn. When Kensi choked up at the part about the burning cigarette, he drew her closer to himself and in a soft voice said, “We’re gonna find him Kens. We’re going to find him, and he’s going to pay for everything that he did to you. But right now I’m here, Monty’s here, and we’ll keep you safe. Do you want to try and sleep in your bed again? I can take your couch if you’d rather sleep alone.”

Kensi blinked, suddenly feeling as if someone had placed heavy weights on her eyelids. With Deeks around, the apartment felt once more to be a safe haven rather than a looming trap. Exhaustion overtaking her, she mumbled, “Stay with me. Don’t care where, just… stay.” She closed her eyes as she felt Deeks ever-so-carefully pick her up and carry her to her bed. He pulled her close and Kensi fell asleep to the steady, comforting beat of his heart.  


	11. Attack

Kensi’s rescue and subsequent nightmares sent Marty’s routine into a tumbling tailspin. He had all but moved in with Kensi to help her heal (in more ways than one), and was still working diligently to find Nikolai. The man’s disappearance spooked Marty. He was still a very active danger, and Marty knew that the Russian would be even more desperate for revenge since Kensi had escaped him.

Most of his days started out with him waking up at Kensi’s townhouse, an early run with Monty, and then heading off to the Mission with promises to his partner to keep his phone on as often as possible so that Kensi could reach him if she needed to- although she steadfastly refused to do so. Then it was off to work, busting cases while exhausting every possible lead to find Nikolai and stop him. Permanently. He spent hours hunched over his tablet or combing through NCIS’s and LAPD’s archives and tracking down every crook that might possibly have a shred of information about Nikolai’s whereabouts.

It was all for naught.

His searches led only to more unanswered questions and dead ends. For all intents and purposes, it was as if Kensi’s kidnapper had dropped off the face of the Earth.

Marty knew the man was simply biding his time. Anyone skilled enough to track, overpower and kidnap a federal agent at the top of her league would not be so foolhardy as to expose himself with so many agencies looking for him and with his targets so highly protected.

The one thing that kept Marty’s determination and spirits up was the very person he was trying to protect- Kensi. As odd (and unfair) as it seemed, he found that he was relying on her just as much as she relied on him for comfort, security and peace. As the days passed from her rescue, the two more-than-just-partners just started to spend more time together. Evening walks with Monty, Thai food with classic movies, Kensi’s physical therapy- those were just some of the many things the two would do together. And while neither would say it, the comfort the companionship brought was what kept them both going. Only one thing was out of place.

Kensi had not returned to NCIS.

In the past, she would have been trying to get in well before her mandatory evaluation had been vetted, just about “chomping at the bit” to be back at her job. After her kidnapping, however, Kensi was far more reluctant to go back. While she had returned to visit the Mission twice, it ended up being nothing more than a social visit. She had chatted Callen and Sam, exchanged high-fives with Eric and even got a huge hug from Nell. However, when Hetty came around, Kensi found excuses to avoid her, drawing a sharp stare from the small woman. Marty wanted his partner back badly, but the empty chair across from him continued to be a stark reminder of her absence.

Yet Marty knew Kensi well enough by now that he wouldn’t even dream about asking her when she was coming back.  

…..

Near the end of the third week following Kensi’s return, Marty was confined to his desk, reading over intel sent from the Navy Yard back in Washington D.C., trying desperately not to fall asleep from sheer boredom. He had benched after finding out that his hands had not properly healed after his “temper tantrum” (Sam’s words, not his) and the subsequent abuse he had put them through going undercover and rescuing Kensi. As such, many of the bones in his knuckles and fingers had to be re-broken and re-set, and he was therefore confined to stiff braces that severely limited his movements. He could barely hold a pen, let alone draw and fire a weapon for field work.

He tried to make the best of the situation by using the extra time to work on his search for Nikolai, but he could only take so many hours of finding dead ends before he wanted to pull every strand of blonde hair completely out.

Marty threw the file down with a sigh. His mind couldn’t focus on its contents any more, and he longed to be out doing something useful. He checked around the bullpen, trying to see if he could sneak away, but one look at Hetty’s office showed that the short woman was staring dangerously at him, and he immediately knew that he wasn’t going to get away with anything other than sitting. With a second sigh, he settled back into his chair. He flipped his laptop’s lid open, signed in, and navigated to the NCIS online archives. With nothing better to do, he started once again researching Nikolai, scanning through the scant files and notes that were available on his foe. Most of the information available was either was from his early life with Mossad until he and his older brother broke off due to the death of their third brother. From there, all that was available was a brief history of his involvement with Enhancing Law Enforcement, capture by NCIS, his brother Nazar’s kidnapping of the federal agents’ triplets and Marty’s own report on Kensi’s kidnapping. It was nothing Marty hadn’t seen before.

Suddenly, a thought came to Marty. In all of the investigating he had done on Nikolai, he hadn’t looked much into the man’s time before he was caught by NCIS. More specifically, he looked back on the time Nikolai had spent with the militant group Enhancing Law Enforcement. He and his older brother Nazar hadn’t gotten very far up the ranks of the ELE; they stayed as nothing more than mere enforcers, nothing more than thugs to enforce the organization’s whims, before it was brought down by NCIS. Still…

Deeks pulled up the files on the ELE, looking at their members, their connections, and most importantly, the property they owned. There wasn’t much other than their main cabin where Callen and Sam had been held hostage, and a few “safe houses” the members owned and used. Marty was about to give up when something on the edge of the satellite map of the ELE’s cabin caught his eye. He panned the screen until the building was in the center of his screen.

It was small, likely no more than a one-room building, and far enough away from the main building to be missed by the original search of ELE’s headquarters. No roads led to the building, not even a meager dirt path. Marty guessed that it was only accessible by ATV or foot. _A lot like that cabin we rescued Kensi from_ Marty thought. He rubbed the stubble on his chin (thanks to his stress, it kept getting longer), thinking about his options. He desperately wanted to go out to the building right away, but knowing how closely monitored he was, he knew he needed to use some tact in order to at least go along with the others to investigate the site.

He printed off the map, closed his laptop, took a deep breath to compose himself and strode up to Hetty’s office, trying his best to look as if he had every right to do so and that absolutely nothing was the matter. As soon as he came into sight, her blue eyes bored into his frame, looking as if she could see straight through him, as always.

“Can I help you, Mr. Deeks?”

“I believe that I have find a possible location for Nikolai.” Marty was proud of that his voice didn’t shake in the slightest.

One of Hetty’s eyebrow’s slowly rose above her glasses. She indicated for him to sit and he did. “Do tell.”

Marty slid the photograph across the richly lacquered desk, letting it come to rest inches in front of the tiny woman. He tapped the building and said “I found this while I was looking through the ELE files. It’s a little over five miles from the main building we found them at. There’s nothing around for at least ten miles. It would make sure that it couldn’t be discovered. I would hazard a guess that ELE used it when they needed a more…private place to conduct ‘business’. It’s entirely possible the Arieh brothers would have known about it and Nikolai would go there now to lay low.” Marty knew that he was reaching a little, but he needed this lead to work out. He didn’t know if he’d be able to take another false lead, another dead end in his partner’s kidnapping.

His desperation must have shown through, because rather than telling Marty exactly what he was thinking, Hetty peered closely at the map, her face showing absolutely no expression ever. Finally, she looked back up at the detective, the same blank look on her face. “You know we do not have the agents or resources for this at the moment, Mr. Deeks…”

“Then send me. I’m not on a case.”

The glare given to him could have cut through steel, and Marty inadvertently pulled back in his chair.

“ _Mr._ Deeks, even if you were not currently so incapacitated that you cannot even properly hold your service weapon, I refuse to even _think_ of allowing you to go to this place without backup. Nikolai has already been established as an _extremely_ dangerous and resourceful man who will stop at nothing to hurt those who stop his plans.”

“Hetty, that’s all the more reason to go after this lead! He won’t stop at anything, and we all know that Kensi is on his list! He needs to be stopped! It doesn’t matter if she’s under protection-he’ll get through it, you know he will!” Marty breathed heavily, no longer caring what happened. His desperation was overriding any common sense. Hetty peered even more intently at the detective, and then slowly, ever so slowly, removed her glasses and let out a sigh.

“I cannot allow you to go Mr. Deeks. Wait.” Hetty held up her hand to stop the argument forming on Marty’s lips. “However, given the circumstances, I can allow for Mr. Callen and Mr. Hana to go on a _short_ investigation of the premises after they return from their interrogation of the current suspect. I will make arrangements for them to have video and audio feed running to Ops during their time there, but I cannot allow you to go on site. This is my offer. Take it or leave it.”

Marty bit his tongue when he heard that he wouldn’t be allowed to physically come along and investigate with the agents, but knowing that he had pushed his luck far enough already, and still knowing that he was able to at least see and hear what the guys found was enough for him to concede to Hetty’s plan, thank her, and go back to his desk to see if he could find anything else before Callen and Sam returned from their interrogation.

…..

Two hours later, Deeks was standing in Ops, facing the large screen and watching the shaky video feed coming from Callen and Sam’s investigation into the tiny building. As Marty had guessed, the building had only one room, and it clearly had not been originally built for anyone to live in it for any extended period of time. Most of the space was taken up by a large, sturdy table that had what looked to be old blood stains covering it. A ratty-looking mattress had been shoved into a corner of the room, covered with a threadbare blanket and a flat pillow at its head. Except for a propane stove, a few dirty dishes and a dented cooler, the rest of the place was bare. Sam’s guttural voice came over the speakers.

“Looks like someone’s been here recently.” His beefy hand passed into view of the camera (both men were wearing button cams and lapel cams), resting just above the stove’s burner. “It’s still warm, someone was here not too long ago. I don’t see anything else. Sorry Deeks.” Marty sucked in a breath, doing everything he could to keep from shouting out in despair. Sam and Callen made one more circuit of the room, and just as they were about to leave, Callen said, “Wait.”

Both men moved to an area in the back of the room, staring at what looked to be nothing more than a discolored section of log. The two men started tapping the wall. When they got to the strangely-colored area, rather than making a solid “thunk”, there was a hollow, reverberating sound. Callen’s fingers started to probe the area, and then yanked at the wood, taking out a segment of the wall to reveal a rather large cubby hole containing what looked to be several papers, photographs and a computer. Sam and Callen pulled gloves and pulled everything out, spreading the information on the stained table.

“Oh, _shit_!” Sam barked. Marty leaned in, and what he saw made his blood run cold. The papers were maps, maps of a _very_ familiar area, but it wasn’t those that sent a chill down the detective’s spine. The photographs were much worse. The photographs were clearly quite recent, showing Kensi in her town home with Marty, Kensi walking Monty, Kensi and Marty driving to her physical therapy. The intent was clear- Nikolai was stalking her.

Marty didn’t wait for Sam and Callen to look into the laptop. He didn’t wait for Hetty or anyone else to say anything. He just dashed out of Ops, ignoring the shouts coming from the room behind him. He didn’t stop running until he got into his car, and then took off, breaking almost every traffic law in the book in his mad rush to get to Kensi’s.

He made it to her townhome in record time. What he saw made him freeze. A dark truck sat in Kensi’s driveway, an ATV tied down in the back. A figure was making its way from her front door, carrying a large, lumpy load on its shoulder. A load with Kensi’s hair. Marty didn’t even bother turning the car off. He leapt out, fumbling at his waist with clumsy hands, trying to grasp his gun. Before he could manage to wrap his busted hand around the butt of his weapon, Nikolai, for it was him, spun and fired off two wide shots from behind the truck. Marty hit the pavement, roaring expletives and Kensi’s name as he finally managed to draw his gun. However, he quickly realized that his casts prevented him from getting a finger in the trigger. As he struggled to remove the Velcro, he heard two more rounds fire off. They weren’t for him, however, but rather hit the tires of his car, sinking the two front ones to the ground.

By this time, Marty managed to rip off his cast and squeeze his aching finger into the trigger guard, Nikolai had already made his way into the cab of the truck and was backing out of the driveway. Marty squeezed off two shots, wincing with each pull. His bullets hit the bumper, missing the tires he had intended to hit. The truck roared off, Marty giving chase before it sped up and left him behind.

Marty sank to the pavement, letting out a bloodcurdling scream. 


	12. Redeeming

Kensi knew the very instant she regained consciousness who was with her. Every fiber of her being screamed _Nikolai!_ the very second she awoke. In the recesses of her mind she had always known one thing for fact- either Nikolai would be incarcerated or killed, or he would finish what he had started with her. While Kensi had of course hoped desperately for the former, she knew the latter was the most likely.

Now it had come true.

Panic rushed over her body like a storm-driven wave. _She was going to die._ The thought filled her mind, driving out any chance of rationalizing or assessing. Nikolai was not the kind of man to let her escape go unpunished, and would most likely skip torture and just kill her to finally satiate his desire for revenge.

 _I don’t want to die!_ It was such a seemingly simple wish, and yet it seemed completely impossible to grant. Her life up until that point began to play in her brain- her earliest memories of her mom and dad, her father teaching her to survive just about anywhere, school, her dad’s death, fights with her mother, running away, finding her way through the cruelty of the world, joining NCIS, her teammates, Dom’s death, Marty…

Marty, with his shaggy locks, large blue eyes, scruffy looks and goofy attitude that hid a core of rock. Marty, who infuriated her, amused her, made her feel things she had never felt before, not even with Jack. Marty, her partner, her friend, her…

Her _love._

The realization hit her like a bolt of energy, dispersing the fear and replacing it with a fiery rage. She was _not_ going to die. This kidnapping bastard had no right to take her life from her, _no goddamn right._ She was Kensi Blye, daughter of a Marine, NCIS agent and _she_ would decide when it was her time to go. She wasn’t going to get anywhere, however, if she acted rashly.

Kensi cracked an eye open to the smallest slit possible, and then opened both eyes fully, just managing to suppress a groan. From what she was able to see and feel, her body was covered head-to-toe in a heavy tarp, with only a few minute holes, likely intended to keep her alive long enough for Nikolai’s revenge, that allowed weak sunlight to filter in. A few experimental tugs revealed that her wrists were bound together with what felt to be zip ties. Duct tape had been stuck over her mouth to muffle any sounds she might make. To top everything off, a rope was tied around her entire upper body, restricting her movement to a few weak wiggles.

Kensi closed her eyes, fighting back a growing wave of despair that was quickly destroying her earlier anger. Not only was she trussed up in a moving vehicle, but the drug that Nikolai had given her was still coursing through her system, making cohesive thought highly difficult and the lure of sleep stronger with each passing second. There was nothing more she could do while she was trapped like this, so Kensi allowed herself to relax, succumbing to a shallow and uneasy sleep.

…..

It was the rough bumping over increasingly uneven ground that forced Kensi back into a painful wakefulness. She was still wrapped in the tarp, and by the lingering fuzziness in her head, she could tell that the drug hadn’t completely left her as of yet. However, her thinking had become clearer and it was easier to fight off the drowsiness that plagued her body. Kensi had no real way of telling just how much time had passed- the sunlight through her breathing holes was just as weak as before, but some deep instinct  warned her that it wouldn’t be long before they stopped, and from the sound and feel of things, wherever they did stop would likely be far from civilization, where a man could dump a body without it or him being discovered.

As if reading her mind, the vehicle lurched to a sudden and violent halt, sending Kensi’s body flying forward into the seats in front of her and then onto the floor, knocking the wind out of her and sending shooting pains up her still-broken leg. She bit her lip until she drew blood to stop herself from screaming and somewhere in front of her she heard a _very_ familiar and grating chuckle.

“Should have given you a seatbelt, hm? Not that it matters.” She heard the sound of a door opening, then closing, muffled footsteps, the door by her feet opening and then she was grabbed by her ankles and yanked out of the car, screaming into her gag at the pain that clawed its way up her damaged leg. Nikoali responded with a steady stream of laughter as he pulled her several feet, and then stopped. He yanked the tarp off of her, sending her into temporary blindness as the dying sunlight (it was apparently near sunset), struck her eyes. A shadow momentarily darkened her vision, and Kensi jumped when Nikolai’s sneering face materialized mere inches from her adjusting eyes, his fetid breath clouding the air between them. He reached out to pat her cheek and she flinched ways at the contact, wishing desperately that he’d remove the tape enclosing her mouth so that she could use a few choice words on him. Instead, Nikolai’s hand traveled up her head until it reached a hank of hair and gripped it, yanking her upwards, quickly bringing an unwilling Kensi to her feet. He then cut the rope with a hidden knife, hauled off, and stuck her in the gut, making her double over, gasping for air. Another blow to the solar plexus dropped her back to the earth. As Nikolai brought his foot back for a kick, Kensi finally reacted, bringing her own now-untied leg up to strike a direct hit to her tormentor’s groin. As the man doubled over, emitting a low moan, Kensi rolled under the car, an idea forming in her head. The car, a rather ordinary-looking tan sedan that would easily get lost amongst the thousands of cars that headed down the freeway. One look under the car had shown her that it had been some time since it had last been it had been fixed.

Looking up, she saw what she was looking for. Well aware of the fact that Nikolai was quickly recovering, she flipped herself over so that she could bring her hands up onto the jagged piece of metal jutting from the undercarriage, sawing at the zip ties, throwing her weight against the bonds, panting as she heard the footsteps of her tormentor closing in on her position. As he came closer and closer, knowing that she was down to mere seconds, Kensi intensified her struggles, crying out against her gag in frustration. Just as Nikolai’s hand was reaching under, the zip ties broke with an audible _snap_ and Kensi scraped up a handful of dirt. As soon as Nikolai’s sneering face came into view, she hurled the soil with all of her strength into his eyes, even allowing herself a small smirk as he reared back in pain. A final roll and a hard push off of the ground got her out from under the car and into a low crouch from which she hobbled into the forest surrounding them. Just as with her last flight, adrenaline fueled Kensi’s body and dulled the pain enough that she could at least a considerable distance between her and her pursuer, but it couldn’t erase the fact that Kensi had a broken bone. Within minutes, her abused limb gave out, sending her tumbling into the foliage. Biting back a scream, Kensi crawled into a thick patch of underbrush and forced herself to think.

She obviously had no hope of outrunning or outmaneuvering Nikolai, and trying to continue on in the fading light was suicidal. She knew the “path” she had taken was highly obvious-a broken leg dragged through a muddy, wooded area left plenty of clues for even the poorest of trackers. Worse, she knew her kidnapper was highly skilled at tracking and wouldn’t have a difficult time finding her no matter what she did to throw him off. She couldn’t go forward, couldn’t backtrack, so there was really only one option left.

The thought terrified Kensi. She was alone, with no backup, no real weapons and no way to call for help. She was nearly incapacitated with her leg and other still-healing injuries, trying to take on a healthy man with training that rivaled her own. But what other choice did she have? Continue on and get hunted down like prey? Allow Nikolai to finally win?

Gritting her teeth and forcing her fears away, Kensi pulled herself further into the underbrush, doing what she could to cover her tracks before dragging herself back parallel to the trail she had just taken for a few yards. She didn’t want Nikolai to see the abrupt end and get suspicious. Once she deemed she was far enough from where she had gone down, Kensi set about splinting her bad leg so that it would at least didn’t collapse while she was moving around. She then gripped a rock, sharp and flinty, feeling the edges bite into her palm. By then she could hear the slow, measured steps of her pursuer.

 _He’s taking his time_ she realized. _He’s still just playing with me!_ The realization sent hot fury burning through her body, incinerating all traces of fear and hesitation. Kensi was done being the victim of his sadistic games.

Nikolai stepped into view, his knife hand swinging lazily. His face was that of a confident hunter, intensely focused on his quarry, but still showing enough a baleful sneer to demonstrate that he believed his prey helpless and doomed. Kensi’s hands tightened until her knuckles turned bone white, anger surging once more. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts as she waited for him to come closer…closer…

Nikolai drew up beside where she hid and froze, his nose in the air as if he were scenting her, and she could wait no more. Her good leg tucked under her, she used the three good limbs she had to push herself out of the undergrowth and clumsily crashed into the man, bringing her arm up to smash the stone into her tormentor’s face. It fell short, landing on his shoulder instead, making him howl in pain. Within a second, Nikolai turned and drove the knife into her shoulder, burying it deep. Kensi screamed, gripping the hilt and turning her body so that he couldn’t reach the weapon again. Again she struck with the rock, the pain in her shoulder throwing her aim so that it couldn’t reach anything vital. With another roar, Nikolai struck the rock out of her hand, threw her backwards and pinned her to the ground. He gripped the knife dug deep into her shoulder and worked to pull it out, only to have it rip further through her flesh. Blood leaked out as her vision greyed, but Kensi gritted her teeth and shoved her fingers into his eyes to force him away. She lifted her good leg and kicked, hitting nothing soft, but forcing him back nonetheless.

Nikolai growled and put his hand behind his back, producing a gun. He pistol-whipped her and then aimed, pointing the barrel at her head. His teeth were bared, and his eyes were glinting with hatred. The hammer clicked back, and something finally broke inside of Kensi. With something that was part roar, part scream, she tugged the knife out of her own shoulder and stabbed. She hit something soft and then the pain got to her, making her fall back into the foliage. Something heavy fell on her, and then Kensi cried out, waiting for the inevitable end.

It never came.

When something trickled onto her face, Kensi couldn’t help to look up once more, only to force her raw throat into one more scream. Nikolai’s face was mere inches from her neck, supported by the hilt of his own knife, which was buried into his eye. The un-stabbed eye was clouded over in death.

Nikolai was dead.

…..

She didn’t remember much after that. Somehow she was able to push the bastard off of her. Somehow she managed to stifle the bleeding enough to stumble into the car (she couldn’t remember how she got the keys) and start it. Somehow she managed to drive to the nearest town and crashed into its sign (she was still unable to remember its name). She heard voices, sirens and then… nothing.

…..

Time must have passed, for when she awoke again, the sun was shining bright through a pair of curtains that were certainly not her own. Everything ached; even things that she was sure couldn’t ache gave her pain. All-too-familiar beeping filled her ears- a monitor, keeping track of her heartbeat and oxygen level. An IV line ran into her left arm, and she could just see that her shoulder was wrapped in bulky bandages. Kensi made the mistake of moving and groaned as further spasms of pain shot through her body.

“You might want to limit your movement Kens. You’ve got a hell of a stab wound in your shoulder, your leg re-broke, not to mention the numerous other bumps, cuts and bruises that you accrued over your excursion.” Kensi’s head whipped around so fast everything in her body screamed, but she didn’t care.

“ _Marty._ ” She had never been happier to see someone as she was at that very moment. His scruffy beard, his long, dirty blonde hair, his sparkling blue eyes and his wonderful, gorgeous smile that only grew the second they locked eyes. He reached out with a finger and gently, tenderly, stroked her cheek. She gripped his hand with all of her strength, feeling tears running down her cheeks. Marty wove his fingers through her own and brought them to his face, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

“Kensi,” he whispered, and she could see tears making their way down his cheeks. “Kensi, you scared me. I thought I wouldn’t see you again.” He reached over and gently cupped her cheek, rubbing a calloused finger over her skin. She leaned into his caress, enjoying the tender moment. Then her traitorous brain threw a troubling question to the forefront of her thoughts.

“Wha-, what happened? How’d you find me?” Marty’s face darkened somewhat, and Kensi couldn’t help but to flinch at the change. Immediately his expression softened, and he moved his hand back to her hand, squeezing her fingers reassuringly.

“There’s not much to tell. When you were first abducted, I had Eric try a Kaleidoscope search for the truck he started with, but he ditched it before we could find the car he switched to. Honestly, we were really just trying to find the second vehicle when Hetty got a call from one of the doctors who told her that you had ended up in this hospital. When we got here, you were still in surgery. That…That was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure. When…when they told me what happened to you…” Here he paused and ran a hand over his face, and Kensi could see agony reflected in there. He took a breath, opened his mouth, closed it, took another breath, and when he was finally able to speak, his voice was shaking. “I…I lost track of time…how many times I thought I was going to lose you.” Here he took another fortifying breath and shook his head, as if to rid himself of dark thoughts. Kensi reached over and re-gripped his hand, making him turn and smile. “But you’re okay now, that’s what matters. While I was here, the guys went with the LEOs to backtrack. They… they found that bastard.” Here Marty bowed his head and let the tears fall freely, without restraint. Kensi murmured softly, pulling his head to her chest. Marty ever-so-carefully wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

They stayed like this, locked in the embrace. When Kensi was able to speak again, her words were softened by the pain encompassing her entire body. “It’s…done…Marty. It’s done. He’s gone. Oh God, he’s finally, finally…gone.” Shaking, forcing herself to ignore the agony it created, she gripped her partner even tighter, allowing all of the pent-up emotion of the last several hours to be released. It was over- Nikolai was completely and truly gone, and she had no more to fear from him.

…..

Days passed, and while Kensi slowly and steadily regained her strength, Marty kept her up to date with what was happening in the world outside the hospital. On the second day, Callen and Deeks came to visit, making small talk, jesting with her, and generally lifted her spirits. It wasn’t until the discussion inevitably came around to Nikolai’s death that everything darkened. For a moment, all fell silent. It was, surprisingly, Callen, who broke the quiet.

“Hetty’s taken care of the… details. No one’s going to miss that bastard. What’s done is done.” He made a slashing motion with his hand. Sam nodded, and then reached over to rub Kensi’s shoulder reassuringly.

“He’s right Kens. I know that none of us can even hope to imagine what you’ve been through, but I can tell you this. You’ve saved yourself, but you also saved Ziva DiNozzo and her triplets as well. You _know_ that he would have gone after them eventually.” Sam squeezed her shoulder. Callen checked his watch and let out a heavy sigh.

 “Gotta go, Kens. Unfortunately, duty still calls.” Kensi waved them away.

“I know, I know, take care. And thank you. Both of you.” Callen patted her shoulder, Sam kissed her forehead, and soon both were gone. For a moment there was silence, and then the door opened once again to admit Hetty. Kensi eyed the woman with some trepidation.

“I heard you… took care of things for me while I was gone. Thank you.” The slight woman didn’t say anything at first, but rather sat down on the chair next to her bed and calmly observed the monitor above Kensi’s head. Just when it seemed the older woman would not speak, she spoke.

“Ms. Blye, I will not even attempt to think that I can relate to what you have gone through, so I will not. What matters now is that you are here, and you are safe. And you have no idea how much that means to me.” At that, Hetty wrapped her hand around Kensi’s, squeezing it tight. The young agent startled at the contact, jumping slightly, but then she brought her other hand around to hug Hetty tight, allowing a few stray tears to fall before pulling away. The look on Hetty’s face was first one of amazement, and then something similar to motherly pride.

“Welcome back Ms- Kensi. Welcome back.”

…..

It took about a week, but eventually Kensi was able to leave the hospital. She had just finished packing up the gifts that had been left for her (she wasn’t sure how, but Nell had somehow managed to get a gigantic teddy bear into her room) when she heard a knock on the door. Looking up, she met the eyes of Deeks, who was standing in the doorframe with a massive smile on his face.

“What… is _that?_ ” he asked, pointing to the teddy bear. Kensi chuckled and patted the bear’s arm.

“Nell got it for me.”

“Ah.” Deeks walked over and gently tapped the bear’s ear, although his eyes were on Kensi. “Cute.”

“Hm, the bear, or me?” Deeks’ grin merely widened as he sauntered over to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “What do you think?” he murmured in her ear. He then pulled her in for a kiss. Kensi stiffened, and then relaxed into it. When they parted for air, his blue eyes had lost their joking gleam and had taken on a softer look, a loving look.

“I love you Kensi.” She startled, unsure of what to say or do. Then it came to her. She wrapped her arms around Marty and rested her head on his chest.

“You saved me Marty. It was the thought of you that gave me strength enough to… go on. Thank… you.” Marty wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently back and forth, ever mindful of her numerous injuries. He let go and carefully turned her around to the door, shouldering the duffle bag she had been given by the guys and picking up the teddy bear. With his free hand, he twined his fingers with Kensi’s.

“Let’s go home… love.”


End file.
